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JosePHlNe POLLHRD 



' LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 

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UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 



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AGRANT VERSES, 



JOSEPHINE POLLARD. 




NEW YORK: 
PHILLIPS & IIVNT. 

CINCINNATI: 
CRANSTON <& STOWE. 






a- 



y/ri 



DEDICATED 

TO THE 

iiom:e CI k CLE. 



ACKNOWLEDGMENT. 



tHE author's tlianks are due to the 
editors of the Century^ Ilarjper's 
Weekly, Indejpendent, New York Ledger, 
Sunday-School Times, and Congregation- 
cdist, for permission to use the vagrant 
verses which originally appeared in those 
publications. J. P. 

New York, 1886. 



CONTENTS. 



Page 

A Little Way 9 

Always a Kiver to Cross 11 

'Twill not be Long 12 

The Coming Years 15 

Where do You Live ? 17 

The Book of Books 20 

Not All at Once ... 21 

Old and New 23 

My Working Days 23 

Outside the Gate 27 

Comfort 28 

Gathering Seed 30 

Christ is ox the Cross Again 31 

L\ Leading-Strings 33 

The Gates of Prayer 34 

Between 36 

The Elder's Talk 37 

The Deacon's Daughter 40 

Pluck and Prayer 43 

A Wonderful Baby 46 

After All 48 

Somehow or Other 49 

A Sonnet 51 

Love's Power 52 

Fate or Fortune .- 53 



6 Contents. 

Paffe 

Don't Take it to Heart 55 

The Best Day of the Year 57 

The Storm will have its Way 58 

With Fresh Young Eyes 60 

Over and Over Again 62 

The Lark's Foster-Mother 63 

What is the Dark ? 65 

Repentant 67 

June 22, 1884 68 

The Common Way 70 

The Cradle Song 72 

The Eldest Sister 74 

God Bless the Lads 75 

The Old Style and the New 77 

The Favorite Child 80 

The Father's Arms 82 

The Motherly Way 85 

If I were You 87 

The Heart of a Child 88 

Her Rigiit-Hand Man 91 

Confession 93 

The Laugh of a Little Child 94 

Two Friends 96 

Mother's Room 98 

A Mother-Boy 100 

Love, the Sailing-Master 102 

Wounded 104 

She and 1 105 

Back to His Mother 107 

The Lessons of the Street 109 

Through and Through Ill 

At the Close of Day 113 



Contents. 7 

Page 

A Plkasant Journey 115 

The Lonely Mother 118 

Crossing the Ferry 119 

At the Pawn-Shop Door 122 

Have Faith in the Boy 125 

When Dave Comes In 127 

The Best Ship Afloat 129 

The Hardest Task 131 

The "Wheel Goes Round 133 

A Corner for You 135 

The Price of a Drink 136 

Some People We Know 139 

Say That You're Sorry 141 

The Girls We Used to Know 143 

A Worrying Woman 145 

Too Deep for That 147 

TiiK Law and the Lady 149 

A Commonplace Wooing 161 

An E very-day Girl 153 

The Touch of a Woman's Hand 155 

'TwiXT Garret and Cellar 157 

The Memory of a Wrong 158 

-What Ailed the Pudding ? 100 

A Word of Cheer 1C4 

A Quiet Friend 165 

Keep them Young 167 

The Good Things of Life . . 169 

An Answered Prayer 170 

A Little Bit of Praise 173 

One Day op Gladness 175 

The Face of a Friend 177 

An Angel's Touch 1 V8 



8 Contents. 

Page 

Saved by a Kiss 181 

Tying the Knot 183 

Poor Widow Gray 185 

In Search of a Flat 187 

A Stately Dame 190 

The Right of Way 191 

Set the Door Ajar 194 

The Little Ones at Play 196 

Love is Better than Silver and Gold 198 

The Heart of a Rose 201 

We Cai^not be Happy Alone 203 

What will Mother Say ? 205 

"A Laugh is Worth a Hundred Groans!"... 206 

Mending the Net 208 

A Little Girl from Out of Town 211 

Coming Down the Stairs 213 

The Funny Story 214 



VAGRANT VERSES. 



A LITTLE WAY 




LITTLE way — I know it is not far 
'To that dear home where my be- 
loved are; 

And yet my faith grows weaker, as I stand 
A poor, lone pilgrim in a dreary land. 
Where present pain the future bliss ob- 
scures. 
And still my heart sits, like a bird, upon 
The empty nest, and mourns its treasures 

gone ; 

Plumed for their flight. 
And vanished quite. 
Ah! me, where is the comfort? — though I 

say 
They have but journeyed on a little way. 

A little way — at times they seem so near, 
Their voices ever murmur at my ear ; 
To all my duties loving presence lend. 
And with sweet ministry my steps attend 
And bring my soul the luxury of tears. 



10 Vagrant Verses. 

'Twas here we met, and parted company ; 
Why should their gain be such a grief to 
me? 

This sense of loss ! 

This heavy cross ! 
Dear Saviour, take the burden off, I pray, 
And show me Heaven is but — a little way. 

These somber robes, these saddened faces, 

all 
The bitterness, and pain, of death recall ; 
Ah, let me turn my face where'er I may, 
1 see the traces of a sure decay ; 
And parting takes the marrow out of life. 
Secure in bliss, we hold the golden chain, 
Which death, with scarce a warning, snaps 

in twain ; 

And never more. 
Shall time restore 
The broken links ; — 'twas only yesterday 
They vanished from our sight — a little way ! 

A little way ! — this sentence I repeat, 
Hoping, and longing, to extract some sweet 
To mingle with the bitter. From Thy 

hand 
I take the cup I cannot understand, 
And in my weakness give myself to thee ! 



A Little Way. 11 

Although it seems so very, very far 

To that dear home where my beloved are, 

I know, I know, 

It is not so ; 
O give me faith to feel it, when I say 
That they are gone — gone but a little way ! 



ALWAYS A RIVER TO CROSS. 

t HERE'S always a river to cross. 
Always an effort to make 
If there's any thing good to win, 
Any rich prize to take ; 
Yonder's the fruit we crave ; 

Yonder the charming scene ; 
But deep and wide, with a troubled tide, 
Is the river that lies between. 

For the treasures of precious worth 

We must patiently dig and dive ; 
For the places we long to fill 

We must push, and stru.Q:gle, and drive ; 
And always and every-where 

We'll find in our onward course, 
Thorns for the feet, and trials to meet, 

And a difticult river to cross. 



12 Vagrant Verses. 

The rougher the way that we take, 

The stouter the heart and the nerve ; 
The stones in our path we break, 

Nor e'er from our impulse swerve ; 
For the glory we hope to win, 

Our labors we count no loss ; 
'Tis folly to pause and murmur because 

Of the river we have to cross. 

So, ready to do and to dare, 

Should we in our places stand, 
Fulfilling the Master's will. 

Fulfilling the soul's demand; 
For though as the mountains high 

The billows may rear and toss, 
They'll not o'erwhelm if the Lord's at the 
helm 

When the difficult river we cross ! 



'TWILL NOT BE LONG. 

^9) 'W^ WILL not be long — this wearying 
*r }^ commotion. 

That marks its passage in the human 
breast. 
And, like the billows on the heaving ocean 
That ever rock the cradle of unrest. 



'Twill not be Long. 13 

Will soon subside ; the happy time is nearing, 
When bliss, not pain, shall have its rich 
increase, 

E'en unto thee the dove may now be steering 

With glorious message. Wait and hold 

thy peace, 

'Twill not be long! 

The lamps go out ; the stars give up their 
shining; 
The world is lost in darkness for awhile ; 
And foolish hearts give way to sad repining, 
And feel as though they ne'er again could 
smile. 
Why murmur thus, the needful lesson scorn- 
ing? 
O, read thy Teacher and his word aright ; 
The world would have no greeting for the 
morning, 
If 'twere not for the darkness of the night ; 
'Twill not be long ! 

'Twill not be long: the strife will soon be 
ended ; 
The doubts, the fear, the agony, the pain. 
Will seem but as the clouds that low de- 
scended. 
To yield their treasure to the parched 
plain. 



14 Vageant Verses. 

The times of weakness, and of sore tempta- 
tions, 
Of bitter grief and agonizing cry ; 
These earthly cares and ceaseless tribula- 
tions 
Will bring a blissful harvest by and by — 
'Twill not be long ! 

'Twill not be long; the eye of faith discern- 
ing 
The wondrous glory that shall be revealed, 
Instructs the soul, that every day is learning 
The better wisdom which the world con- 
cealed. 
And soon, ay, soon, there'll be an end of 
teaching. 
When mortal vision finds immortal sight. 
And her true place the soul in gladness 
reaching, 
Beholds the glory of the Infinite. 

'Twill not be long ! 

"'Twill not be long!" the heart goes on 
repeating; 
It is the burden of the mourner's song ; 
The w^ork of grace in us He is completing. 
Who thus assures us — "It will not be 
long." 



'Twill not be Long. 15 

His rod and staff our fainting steps sustain- 
ing 
Our liope and comfort every day will be; 
And we may bear our cross as uncomplaining 
As He who leads us unto Calvary; 

'Twill not be long ! 



THE COMING YEARS. 
EED-TIME and harvest with assured 



succession 



Have paid their tribute to the buried 
past. 
The golden fruit has been in our possession 

Only to crumble into dust at last. 
Of joy too often have our hearts been cheated, 
While sorrow led us through a vale of 
tears. 
And every bitter pang will be repeated 
Surely, ay, surely, through the coming 
years. 

Untimely frost will chill our fairest blossom. 
Mad billows sweep our treasures from our 
sight. 

And earth receive into its cold, cold bosom 
The only thing in which we took delight. 



16 Vagkant Yerses. 

Already clothed in majesty most solemn, 
The foe of peace and happiness appears, 

Prepared to follow the advancing column, 
The grand procession of the coming years. 

O yesterdays ! so full of buried treasure. 
So full of bliss, and yet so incomplete, 
Only by your departure can we measure 
The richness of those hours love made so 
sweet. 
So brief ! so sweet ! we part from them with 
sadness, 
And keep their memory fragrant with 
our tears. 
Knowing full well our hearts shall have of 
gladness 
A meager portion in the coming years. 

The coming years ! O foolish, foolish guess- 
ers, 

Little ye know of what is " yea" or " nay ; " 
Of doubts and fears the cowardly conf essers. 

Ye rob to-morrow and defraud to-day. 
Be this your beacon-light in hours of sadness, 

Higher and deeper than your hopes and 
fears. 
That, like a miracle of youth and gladness, 

Christ Cometh ever with the coming years. 



The Coming Yeaks. 17 

Trust him, though other joys slip from your 
keeping, 
Trust him, my soul, and patiently await 
The time ajjpointed for a blissful reaping, 

None the less precious that it cometh late. 
E'en as the sun, the morning mist dispelling, 
The heart of nature with its jDromise 
cheers. 
So love from day to day is sweetly telling 
Of faithful service through the coming 
years. 



WHERE DO YOU LIVE? 
<>^ 

Wl KNEW a man, and his name was 
llf Horner, 

Who used to live on Grumble Corner; 
Grumble Corner in Cross-Patch Town, 
And he never was seen without a frown. 
He grumbled at this; he grumbled at that; 
He growled at the dog ; he growled at the 

cat; 
He grumbled at morning; he grumbled at 

night; 
And to grumble and growl were his chief 
delight. 
2 



18 Vagkant Yekses. 

He grumbled so much at his wife that she 
Began to grumble as well as he ; 
And all the children, wherever they went, 
Reflected their parents' discontent. 
If the sky was dark and betokened rain, 
Then Mr. Horner was sure to complain ; 
And if there was never a cloud al)out 
He'd grumble because of a threatened 
drought. 

His meals were never to suit his taste ; 
He grumbled at having to eat in haste ; 
The bread was poor, or the meat was tough, 
Or else he hadn't had half enough. 
No matter how hard his wife might try 
To please her husband, with scornful eye 
He'd look around, and then, with a scowl 
At something or other, begin to growl. 

One day, as I loitered along the street. 
My old acquaintance I chanced to meet. 
Whose face was without the look of care, 
And the ugly frown that it used to wear. 
'' I may be mistaken, perhaps," I said. 
As, after saluting, I turned my head; 
"But it is, and it isn't, the Mr. Horner 
Who lived so long on Grumble Corner! " 



Where do You Live? 19 

I met him next day; and I met him again, 
In melting weather and pouring rain, 
When stocks were up, and when stocks were 

down ; 
But a smile somehow had replaced the frown. 
It puzzled me much ; and so, one day, 
I seized his hand in a friendly way. 
And said : " Mr. Horner, I'd like to know 
What can have happened to change you 

so?" 

He laughed a laugh that was good to hear; 
For it told of a conscience calm and clear, 
And he said, with none of the old-time 

drawl, 
" Why, I've changed my residence, that is 

all ! " 
"Changed your residence?" "Yes," said 

Horner, 
"It wasn't healthy on Grumble Corner, 
And so I mov^ed ; 'twas a change complete ; 
And you'll find me now on Thanksgiving 

Street ! " 

Now, every day as I move along 
The streets so filled with the busy throng, 
I watch each face, and can always tell 
Where men and women and children dwell ; 



20 Vagrant Verses. 

And many a discontented mourner 
Is spending his days on Grumble Cor- 
ner, 
Sour and sad, whom I long to entreat 
To take a house on Thanksgiving 
Street. 



THE BOOK OF BOOKS. 



I 



HAVE a little book at home, it has 
been mine for years ; 
"" There's many, many a leaf within that's 

blotted with my tears ; 
The covers are defaced, and e'en the gild- 
ing worn with age. 
And pencil-marks are scattered round on 
nearly every page. 

My father gave this book to me, O, many 

years ago, 
When little of its real worth or import I 

could know ; 
It pleased my fancy and my pride ; I felt 

extremely grand, 
That I had such a pretty book to carry in 

my hand. 



The Book of Books. 21 

But when the first great sorrow came — my 

loving father died — 
And broken-hearted, how I longed to lay 

down by his side ! 
Within this book I found that God would 

comfort and would bless, 
And be a heavenly Father to the poor and 

fatherless. 

When I am saddened or perplexed, with 
trials sore distressed, 

I read that he will surely "give the heavy- 
laden rest ; " 

In every trouble of my life unto this rock I 
flee. 

And sweet refreshing streams of love seem 
gushing out to me. 



NOT ALL AT ONCE. 

OT all at once, but day by day, 
Our debt of gratitude we pay 

To Him whose care for us exceeds 
Our knowledge of our daily needs. 
As sun and showers 
Enrich the flowers 




22 Vagrant Verses. 

That bud and bloom in yonder vale, 

Nor deem it ill 

To drink their fill 
Of fragrant incense they exhale, 
So we, who greater good receive 
That we more noble lives may live, 
As sweet acknowledgment may pay. 
Not all at once — but day by day. 

Not all at once may we attain 

To any good we hope to gain, 

Nor soar by rapid, eager flights 

From darkest depths to sunnier heights. 

The little rills 

That skirt the hills 
And breathe a trembling melody. 

May join ere long 

The solemn song. 
The anthem of the sounding sea. 
Through dark ravine, down mountain slope, 
Through all the labyrinths of hope, 
They journey on their devious way. 
And gather courage day by day. 

Not all at once does heaven appear 
To those who watch with vision clear, 
And eager longings to behold 
Its pearly gates and streets of gold ; 



Not All at Once. 23 

But from the wheel 

Of life we reel 
The silken thread so finely spun, 

Through light and gloom, 

Nor leave the loom 
Till death declares our task is done. 
And if the heart with love be filled, 
And if the soul with joy be thrilled. 
Then heaven will shine upon our way, 
Not all at once — but day by day ! 



OLD AND NEW. 

fHE Old Year sat beside the hearth 
In thoughtful mood ; the hour was 
late ; 
And ere he vanished from the earth, 

The past he fain would contemplate. 
" I brought a w^ealth of joy for those 

Who had o'erburdened been with grief," 
He said, " and for unnumbered woes 
Furnished the cordial of relief. 

" To some I gave a garden's bloom, 
Sweet pansies and forget-me-nots ; 

To some the cypress, and the tomb, 
The barrenness of desert spots. 



24 Vagrant Verses. 

With Love I tarried for a while, 
Breathing the sweet elysian air ; 

And bidding Hope serenely smile 
Across the threshold of Despair. 

" I entered on my natal hour 

Burdened alike with bliss and bane, 
Commissioned by my Lord to dower 

Some hearts with ease, and some with pain. 
Where happiness had rich increase, 

I shall be honored long, I know ; 
But those I robbed of joy and peace — 

They will be glad to have me go ! 

" I've followed many a bridal train ; 

Have watched by many a lonely bier : 
With birth and death, with loss and gain. 

Made up the record of the year. 
And now beside December's gate 

Where hangs the years' alarum bell, 
I pause to scan the past, and wait 

The sound of my own funeral knell. 

" One ! — How the hours have slipped away ! 

Two ! — Some will weep with sore regret; 
Three ! — Could I still on earth delay — 

Four! — Some good I might accomplish 
yet. 



Old and New. 25 

Five ! — An angelic song awoke ! 

Six ! — Surely are the fetters riven, 
Seven ! — Soon I shall hear the final stroke — 

Eight! — Chime sweetly with the clock 
of heaven ! 

^^N'ine ! — I am nearer to my goal ! 

Ten ! — Time must eternity begin ! 
Eleven ! — Awake, immortal soul ! 

Twelve ! — Farewell ! and let the New 
Year in ! " 

" T come the Old Year's debts to pay ! 

I come his promises to keep ; 
To walk upon the world's highway. 

And deck the grave where dear ones sleep. 
Where he gave smiles I may give tears, 

Life's path with good or ill bestrew ; 
For unto him who views the years 

The new is old, the old is new ! " 



MY WORKING DAYS. 

f COUNT my working days the best. 
When strong of Avill, and firm of nerve, 
I did Ambition's high behest, 

And made all things my purpose serve. 



26 Vagrat^t Verses. 

I trod the path with eager feet 

That led me on through days of toil, 

And found my nightly slumbers sweet, 
When angels fed my lamp with oil. 

Then great and glowing was the prize 
Toward which I aimed : a planet bright, 

That shone before my wondering eyes 
With no uncertain, wavering light. 

TIow swift the busy moments sped ! 

IIow soon life's morning hours were spent! 
And ever was my daily bread 

Sweet with the honey of content ! 

The years may bring me rich reward ; 

Rare fruitage of the seed once sown ; 
And in my gran'ries may be stored 

The generous gifts of every zone ; 

But I shall miss the earnest strife, 
That lured me on to reach the goal ; 

That warmed the currents of my life, 
And fired each impulse of the soul. 

And in those later days of ease. 
When life has lost its wonted zest, 

My mind will dwell on thoughts like these. 
And count my working days the best. 



Outside the Gate. 27 



OUTSIDE THE GATE. 

Him that coraeth unto me, I will in no wise cast out." 

t STOOD outside the gate, 
A poor, wayfaring child ; 
Within my heart there beat 
A tempest, loud and wild. 
A fear oppressed my soul, 

That I might be too late ; 
And O, I trembled sore. 

And prayed, outside the gate. 

"Mercy !" I loudly cried ; 

" O give me rest from sin ! " 
" I will," a voice replied ; 

And Mercy let me in. 
She bound my bleeding wounds ; 

She soothed my aching head ; 
She eased my burdened soul. 

And bore the load instead. 

In Mercy's guise, I knew 
The Saviour long abused ; 

Who often sought my heart, 
And wept when I refused. 



28 Vagkant Vekses. 

O what a blest return 
For ignorance and sin ! 

/ stood outside the gate, 
And Jesus let me in ! 



COMFORT. 



OW could I rest upon my nightly pil- 



low 
In sweet forgetfuhiess of wrong or 
pain, 
Within a harbor where no vexing billow 

Suggests the tortures of the restless main ; 
Did not thy presence, O beloved Saviour ! 
Subdue the tempest on life's stormy sea ; 
Didst thou not, w^ith unwearied love and 
favor 
Come in and comfort me ? 

It may be that to-morrow I must travel 
A rougher road than e'er my feet have 
known ; 
In darker mazes painfully unravel 

The clew that leads me to tliy glorious 
throne : 



Comfort. 29 

But thou hast promised me thy sure protec- 
tion, 
And dark or dangerous though the way 
may be 
I trust alone to Jesus for direction ; 
And he will comfort me ! 

Not with the w^ords that earthly friendship 
giveth ; 
Not with such meager manna will he feed 
The soul that in his righteousness believeth, 
And trusts to him in every hour of need : 
But with a heart that comprehends our an- 
guish, 
And asks us not to bear the weight alone, 
lie will come in where we in silence lan- 
guish. 
And make our griefs his own. 

So, when my house is shadowed by a trial 

That sets me from my fellow-men a[)art, 
Thou wilt of solitude take no denial. 

But enterest through the door-way of my 
heart. 
Thy hand is on me. Lord, to keep me lowly ; 

What thou hast hid I do not wish to see ; 
Thou knowest all the way ; I trust thee 
wholly ; 

And thou dost comfort me. 



30 Vagrant Verses. 



GATHERING SEED. 

X B^^^'^ "^ ^^^^ highways, wherever we go, 
<^(y Seed we must gather and seed we 
must sow ; 

Even the tiniest seed has a power, 

Be it a thistle, or be it a flower. 

Here, where it seems but a wilderness-place. 
Wanting in beauty, and wanting in grace; 
Some gentle creature in tenderness goes, 
Plucking the nettle and planting the rose. 

Out of those gardens so gorgeous with 

flowers. 
Seed we may gather to beautify ours ; 
While from our own little plot we may 

spare 
Something to render our neighbors' more 

fair. 

Out of each moment some good we obtain. 
Something to winnow and scatter again ; 
All that we listen to, all that we 7'ead, 
All that we think of, is gathering seed. 



Gathering Seed. 31 

Gathering seed, we must scatter as well ; 
God will watch over the place where it 

fell; 
Only the gain of the harvest is ours ; 
Shall we plant nettles? or shall we plant 

flowers ? 

That which we gather is that which we 

sow; 
Seed-time and harvest alternately flow ; 
When we have finished with Time 'twill be 

known 
How we have gathered, and lio\o we have 

sown ! 



CHRIST IS ON THE CROSS AGAIN! 

^/x5vN the hill -top darkness gathers; 
viS' In the valley mists arise; 
While upon unholy altars 
Burn the carnal sacrifice. 
Men, with mocking jeers and laughter, 

Temples of the Lord profane ; 
Crowned with thorns, and sorely wounded, 
Christ is on the cross again ! 



32 Vagrant Veeses. 

All his words and deeds despising, 

They the King of kings dethrone ; 
Mix again the gall and wormwood 

For the Saviour they disown. 
Spit upon, despised, rejected, 

Filled with agony and pain, 
Yet with mercy overflowing, 

Christ is on the cross again ! 



Money-changers fill the places 

To his worship set apart ; 
Friends forsake, and foes deride him, 

Tramj^le on his bleeding heart; 
Tears and groanings are unheeded. 

Seamless robe is rent in twain. 
Heart and hand alike consenting, 

Christ is on the cross again ! 



Hear the chorus of blasphemers 

Breaking into ribald song ! 
See the scornful unbelievers 

Mingle with the murd'rous throng! 
See the precious life-blood flowing 

From his side like crimson rain ! 
Tremble, earth, and veil thy glories ; 

Christ is on the cross again ! 




In Leading-Strings. 33 



IN LEADING-STRINGS. 

[^'^T'HEN infant steps essayed to go 
Beyond the boundary assigned, 
In search of lands they did not know, 
In search of joys they hoped to find, 
Love would control the restless things, 
And held them safe in leading-strings. 

The way we choose may not be safe ; 

A thousand perils we may meet ; 
And though impatiently we chafe 

At clogs that lofty aims defeat, 
In safer path Love surely brings 
The child in need of leading-strings. 

I would not be without a guide 
Along these giddy paths I tread ; 

Where yawning gulfs on either side 
Betray the feet, confuse the head ; 

And while I walk 'mid earthly things 

I would be kept in leading-strings. 

Love's guiding impulse I would know, 
When trials come, and death alarms ; 

And when life's tenure slips, would go 
Straightway to Love's embracing arms. 

Then, when my spirit finds its wings, 

I shall be out of leadino^-strinojs! 



34 Vagkant Verses. 



THE GATES OF PRAYER. 

OW would the soul grow weary of its 

plaint, 
And pine upon the threshold of de- 
spair, 
If no one came to succor it when faint. 
Or hearken to its agonizing' prayer ! 
How long ! How long ! 
A kneeling throng 
Might supplicate, and find their suit de- 
nied, 
If 'twere not for a Saviour crucified ! 



How far away would seem that Canaan- 
land ; 
How wide the chasm at our feet appear ; 
If faith had not the dark abysm spanned, 
And made those distant glories seem 
more near ! 

O Love ! O Light ! 
There is no night 
To any soul that patiently awaits 
God's gracious answer through those heav- 
enly gates. 



The Gates of Prayer. 35 

Sweet gates of prayer, that open to a breath ! 

What heart its aspirations would subdue, 

And see its hopes fall in th' embrace of 

death, 

That might have passed those shining 

portals through ? 

With Jesus there. 
Those gates of prayer 
Can never close ; for Calvary has won 
The peace of God, through his Beloved Son ! 

The little child that by a mother's knee 
Lisps forth its morning or its evening 
prayer, 
Can move those gates of mercy, and from 
Thee 
Receive assurance of a Father's care. 
By night, by day, 
O Christ ! I pray 
Keep me, thy child, so humble in thy sight 
That I may have thy presence day and night. 

O lovely gates ! your golden hinges turn 
Ere yet our lips have framed their first 
request. 
And when our souls for his dear presence 
yearn, 
We find our answer, ere it is confessed. 



36 Vageant Verses. 

With empty hands 
The sinner stands, 
And leaves himself, and all his burdens, 
there 
Where Christ is stationed : at the Gates 
of Prayer. 



BETWEEN. 

[^ETWEEN the cradle and the grave, 
Our comincj and our g-o'mcr 
There stretches out an Eden-land, 
Where all good things are growing, 
Good things of God's bestowing, 
Between the cradle and the grave, 
Our coming and our going. 



Between the morning and the night, 

The blooming and the folding, 
Great ships that come from fragrant lands, 

Their precious freights unlading, 

Pursue their friendly trading, 
Between the morning and the night, 

The blooming and the fading. 



Between. 37 

Between thy heart and mine, beloved, 

What wealth of bliss is lying ! 
What fragrant clusters of delight, 

The frosts of time defying ! 

The wine of life supplying! 
Between thy heart and mine, beloved, 

An Eden-land is lying. 



THE ELDER'S TALK. 

[^EEN down to evenin' meetin', to hear 
what the parson'd say. 
Parson is college I'arnt, an' a mightily 
clever man; 
An' it warms one up to hear him talk o' the 
Judgment-day, 
An' the lake o' fire an' brimstun, as no 
other parson can. 

Sometimes it's hard to foller him up to the 
h'ights so grand. 
When he argers on pints o' doctrine, an' 
non-confrumity views; 
But it pleases some o' the folks who'd 
rayther not understand. 
An' say, " Why, thet's bekase the pulpit's 
higher 'n the pews." 



38 Vagrant Verses. 

Well, mebbe so; but my Nancy 
Nancy is wise enough, 
An' talks like a jDarson, too, herself, 
when things in the house go wrong — 
That folks may go, for all she cares, to hear 
the botherin' stuff, 
But she don't never hanker arter any 
thing quite so strong. 



But ther' wa'n't any preachin' that night 
that Nancy and me went down — 
For parson was mighty sick, an' tuk in a 
suddent way — 
Though Deacon Potter was there, an' like- 
wise Deacon Brown, 
An' 'twas thought thet Elder Iloppock 
might hev a little to say. 



The elder's as humbly a man as ever you'd 
wish to see, 
An' ha'n't any more book-1'arnin' than 
the most on us, I guess; 
But ther' aint a child in the deestrick that 
wouldn't climb on his knee, 
An' he's al'ays the one the women go to 
in any sort o' distress. 



The Elder's Talk. 39 

No, I can't remember the sermon, to give 
it out word by word; 
It wa'n't the sort o' a discourse thet any 
man can repeat; 
But it went like a liery needle through 
every body thet heard. 
An' each on us felt as ef somehow he'd 
got in the anxious seat. 



We all shuck hands arter meetin', an' I 
couldn't help it, I vow; 
My heart was so kind o' full o' what the 
elder had said 
Thet I told the Widow Jinkins— who hed 
lost her only cow — 
Thet I'd take the hide, an' send her a 
better one instead. 



I tell yer that talk went down to the very 
soles of our boots, 
Makin' us toe the mark, an' turn from 
our selfish ways. 
An' a-tearin' our sinful feelin's up by the 
very roots, 
An' a-givin' the Lord an' Master hisself 
the hull o' the praise. 



40 Vagrant Verses. 

Sound enough is the parson; but poor folks, 
like us, you know, 
Logic an' I'arnin' an' stiffness once in a 
while ken excuse, 
For the sake o' that good, old-fashioned, 
ginuine sort o' glow 
That warms us up when the pulpit gits 
down ez low ez the j)ews! 



'Tain't any use a-h'istin' denominational 
poles 
An' a settin' the bread o' life on top o' 
the cupboard shelf. 
For the only way to get at these hide-bound, 
perishin' souls 
Is ter feel that yer aint any better or 
more desarvin' yerself ! 



THE DEACON'S DAUGHTER. 

^^^E ACON ALLEN had a little daughter, 
^^^ Very sweet and wise. 

With the wondrous lore the angelj; 
taught her 
Sparkling in her eyes. 



The Deacon's Daughter. 41 

Thus by one who deemed her more than 
human, 

Angel she was styled; 
Unto us she seemed not yet a woman, 

And yet more than child. 

In the meshes of her sweet demeanor 

Every heart was caught; 
And in every field, with Love, the 
gleaner, 

Love's reward she sought. 

Deacon Allen loved his little daughter 

As his very life ; 
For the angels who from Heaven brought 
her 

Took away his wife. 

Precious things are very fair and fragile, 

Touched with dainty grace ; 
And her step, so wondrous light and 
agile, 

And her rare sweet face, 

Were as portions of some weird creation 

That excites amaze. 
And with strangely subtle fascination 

Haunts us all our days. 



42 Vagrant Verses. 

Said the Deacon: "Some day she will 
marry — 

This sweet pet of mine — 
And her choice my wishes shall not parry 

By the slightest sign. 

" She's a loving, sunny little creature, 

Wiser than her sex; 
Foolish it would be for me to teach her 

Problems that perplex. 

" No. In all her wishes and desires 

Gladly I'll concur; 
And when age destroys my wonted fires 

I will dwell with her." 

Said the maid, as if, more wise than human, 

All his thoughts she knew: 
" When I grow up to be a great big woman, 

I'll keep house for you ! " 

Did her eyes grow bluer with the vision 

That her future spanned. 
Of a dwelling-place in fields Elysian, 

Where her feet should stand ? 

Who can know? Some pages of her story 

Feebly we may spell ; 
But of the other side, the hidden glory, 

We've no skill to tell. 



The Deacon's Daughter. 43 

Angels came for Deacon Allen's daughter, 

One remembered night; 
Bridal wreath and pearly gems they brought 
her, 

Lying there so white. 

For so slight a hold on earth was given 

To the darling's keep, 
She had but to close her eyes, and Heaven 

Turned the key on sleep. 

" She is married," says the mourning father. 

Underneath his breath. 
** She had many suitors, but would rather 

Be the bride of Death. 

" I shall see her when, my journey ended. 

Yonder heights are gained. 
And by angels whom I once befriended 

Shall be entertained ! " 



PLUCK AND PRAYER. 

tHERE wa'n't any use o' frettin', 
An' I told Obadiah so, 
^^ For ef we couldn't hold on to things. 
We'd jest got to let 'em go. 



44 Va(Jkant Verses. 

There were lots of folks that 'd suffer 

Along with the rest of us, 
And it didn't seem to be worth our while 

To make such a dreffle fuss. 

To be sure, the barn was 'most empty, 

An' corn an' pertaters sca'ce. 
An' not much of any thing plenty an' cheap 

But water — an' apple-sass. 
But then — as I told Obadiah — 

It wa'n't any use to groan, 
For flesh an' blood couldn't stan' it ; an' he 

Was nothing but skin an' bone. 

But, laws ! ef you'd only heerd him. 

At any hour of the niglit, 
A-prayin' out in that closet there, 

'Twould have set you crazy quite. 
I patched the knees of those trousers 

With cloth that was noways thin, 
But it seemed as ef the pieces wore out 

As fast as I set 'em in. 

To me he said mighty little 

Of the thorny way we trod. 
But at least a dozen times a day 

He talked it over with God. 



Pluck and Pkayer. 45 

Down on his knees in that closet 
The most of his time was passed ; 

For Obadiah knew how to pray- 
Much better than how to fast. 

But I am that way contrairy 

That ef things don't go jest right, 
I feel like rollin' my sleeves up high 

An' gittin' ready to fight. 
An' the giants I slew that winter 

I aint goin' to talk about ; 
An' I didn't even complain to God, 

Though I think that he found it out. 

With the point of a cambric needle 

I druv the wolf from the door, 
For I knew that we needn't starve to death 

Or be lazy because we were poor. 
An' Obadiah he wondered. 

An' kept me patchin' his knees. 
An' thought it strange how the meal held 
out. 

An' stranger we didn't freeze. 

But I said to myself in whispers, 

" God knows where his gift descends ; 

An' 'tisn't always that faith gits down 
As far as the finy^er-ends." 




46 Vagrant Vehses. 

An' I wouldn't have no one reckon 

My Obadiali a shirk, 
For some, you know, have the gift to pray, 

And others the gift to work. 



A WONDERFUL BABY. 

JIS a wonderful baby, I cannot deny it, 
The loveliest, sweetest, that ever 
was made ; 
And no silver or gold in the country could 
buy it, 
Nor jewels — though e'en a queen's casket 
were paid. 

We humor and fondle, we kiss and caress it, 
Are anxious whenever it's out of our sight ; 
And we call it pet names — such as " queen- 
lamb," and " blessed," 
" Dear old precious darling I " from morn- 
ing till night. 

If we have any joys, if we have any trouble. 
If over our pathway a dark shadow lowers. 

Our griefs we divide, and our pleasures we 
double, 
Because of this wonderful baby of ours. 



A Wonderful Baby. 47 

It never is cross, impatient, or fretful, 
Like most other babies that you and I 
know ; 

And we would be never unkind or forgetful 
Of all that to this precious darling we owe. 

Its face is all wrinkled — now isn't that 
funny ? 
Its step has been feeble for many a day, 
And over the brow where were ringlets 
once sunny 
There now are soft tresses of silvery gray. 

You'll think I am foolish and frivolous, 
may be — 
Declaring the truth I have surely not 
told; 
But this precious old darling, this wonder- 
ful baby, 
So dear to our hearts, is near eighty years 
old. 

By care and caresses we give to no other, 
Her care and her kindness we strive to 
repay ; 
And- we thank the dear Father in heaven 

that MOTHER, 

With heart young as ever, is with us 
to-day ! 



48 Vageant Vekses. 



AFTER ALL.* 

jT^XESPITE the prayers and tears and 
^rr^ earnest pleading, 

And piteous protest o'er a hero's 
fall, 
Despite the hoj^eful signs our hearts mis- 
leading, 

Death cometh after all ! 

Over the brightest scenes are clouds de- 
scending ; 
The flame soars highest ere its deepest 
fall; 
The glorious day has all too swift an end- 
ing : 

Night cometh after all ! 

O'er bloom or beauty now in our posses- 
sion 
Is seen the shadow of the funeral pall ; 
Though Love and Life make tearful inter- 
cession, 

Death cometh after all ! 

* A tribute to Gartield. 



Somehow or Other. 49 



SOMEHOW OR OTHER. 

)IFE has a burden for every one's 
slioulder, 

None may escape from its trouble 
and care ; 
Miss it in youth, and 'twill come when we're 
older, 
And fit us as close as the garments we 
wear. 
Sorrow comes into our homes uninvited, 
Robbing the heart of its treasure of 
song; 
Lovers grow cold, and our friendships are 
slighted. 
Yet somehow or other we worry along ! 

'Mid the sweet blossoms that smile in our 
faces, 
Grow the dank weeds that would poison 
and blight ; 
And e'en in the midst of earth's beautiful 
places 
There 's always a something that isn't just 
right ! 
•4 



50 Vagrant Verses. 

Yet oft from a rock we may pluck a gay 
flower, 
And drink from a spring in a desolate 
waste ; 
They come to the heart like a heavenly 
dower, 
And naught is so sweet to the eye or the 
taste. 

Every-day toil is an every-day blessing, 
Though poverty's cottage and crust we 
may share ; 
Weak is the back on which burdens are 
pressing, 
But stout is the heart that is strengthened 
by prayer, 
Somehow or other the pathway grows 
brighter, 
Just when we mourned there was none 
to befriend ; 
Hope in the heart makes the burden seem 
lighter, 
And somehow or other we get to the 
end ! 



A Sonnet. 51 



A SONNET. 



NCE a poet wrote a sonnet 
All about a pretty bonnet, 
And a critic sat upon it, 

(On the sonnet, 

Not the bonnet,) 

Nothing loath. 

And as if it were high treason. 

He said, " Neither rhyme nor reason 

Has it. And it's out of season ! " 

Which? The sonnet? 

Or the bonnet ? 

May be both. 

" 'Tis a feeble imitation 
Of a worthier creation, 
An aesthetic innovation !" 

Of a sonnet? 

Or a bonnet ? 

This was hard. 

Both were put together neatly, 

Harmonizing very sweetly, 

But the critic crushed completely. 

Not the bonnet, 

Or the sonnet, 

But the bard. 



62 Vagbant Vekses. 



LOVE'S POWER. 

<>^ 

iTLF I were blind, and thou shouldst enter 
ilL E'er so softly in the room, 
I should know it, 
I should feel it. 
Something subtle would reveal it. 
And a glory round thee center 

That would lighten up the gloom. 
And my heart would surely guide me, 
With Love's second-sight provide me. 
One amid the crowd to find. 
If I were blind ! 

If I were deaf, and thou hadst spoken 
Ere tliy presence I had known, 

I should know it, 

I should feel it, 
Something subtle w^ould reveal it, 
And the seal at once be broken 

By Love's liquid undertone ; 
Deaf to other, stranger voices. 
And the Avorld's discordant noises — 
Whisper, wheresoe'er thou art, 

'Twill reach my heart ! 



Love's Powek. 53 

If I were dead, and tliou shouldst venture 
Near the coffin where I lay, 

I should know it, 

I should feel it, 
Something subtle would reveal it, 
And no look of mildest censure 

Rest upon that face of clay. 
Shouldst thou kiss nie, conscious flashes 
Of Love's fire through Death's cold ashes 
Would give back the cheek its red. 

If I were dead ! 



FATE OR FORTUNE? 

T life's gate two angels stand — 
Fate and Fortune — at each hand, 
Ready guidance to bestow 

On our pilgrimage below; 

Veiled so closely, the disguise 

Is not clear to mortal eyes. 

For awhile we tread on flowers, 
Joy and gladness fill the hours; 
Friends surround us, wealth and fame, 
All that happiness can claim, 
And we say, attended thus, 
Fortune has befriended us ! 



54 Vagrant Verses. 

Then the clouds and storms appear, 
Pain and sufferings severe, 
Losses, crosses, deepest woe 
Any loving heart can know. 
Until, wrecked and desolate. 
We seem left the sport of Fate. 

Oft the thing that seems amiss 
Leads us up to higher bliss ; 
While the good we covet so 
Drags us down to depths below; — 
Who can tell in such a strait, 
Which is Fortune? — which is Fate? 

Human hearts discover crowns 
Li the dark when Fortune frowns; 
And to pleasure are inclined, 
And the world, when Fate is kind. 
Only Wisdom can attest 
Which the guide that serves us best. 

That which we Misfortune call 

Ls no enemy at all. 

But the angel Heaven sends. 

By whose aid we try our friends — 

Prove them false, or prove them true, 

As before we could not do. 



Fate or Fortune? 

So 'tis well to murmur not 
At the changes in our lot ; 
But to trust Him every day 
Who goes with us all the way, 
And from life to death's dark gate 
Rules our Fortune and our Fate. 



[The poem, " Don't take it to Heart," appeared in 
the " New York Ledger " of July 13, 1872. In " Tins- 
ley's Magazine " for November, 1876, a poem appeared 
with the same title, bearing the signature of Georgi- 
ana C. Clark. The first two stanzas were taken bodily 
from my poem, and the remainder was given an En- 
glisli twist that would dispel any suspicion of its 
American birthright. The poem has been widely 
copied, and the original author has had frequent op- 
portunity to consider the irony of the title, and the 
presumption of the plagiarist.] 

DON'T TAKE IT TO HEART. 

t HERE'S many a trouble would break 
like a bubble, 
And into the waters of Lethe depart, 
Did we not rehearse it, and tenderly nurse 
it, ^ 
And give it a permanent home in the 
heart. 



56 Vagrant Verses. 

There's many a sorrow would vanish to- 
morrow, 
Were we not unwilling to furnish the 
wings ; 
So, daily intruding, and quietly brood- 
ing. 

It hatches out all sorts of horrible 
things. 



There's many a pleasure might prove a 
sweet treasure. 
Did we in our hearts let it bourgeon and 
bloom ; 
But joys that invite us will flourish to spite 
us, 
And laugh at our foolish surrender to 
gloom. 



There's many a trifle whose growth we 
might stifle 
With laugh, or with joke, or more deli- 
cate art ; 
But careful to nourish, 'twill rapidly flour- 
ish. 
And seem like a mountain of fire on the 
heart. 



Don't take it to Heart. 57 

Give wings, then, to sorrow, and draw from 
to-morrow 
The sunshine to scatter the grief that 
annoys ; 
This world would be brighter, our hearts 
would be lighter. 
Thought we less of our sorrows and more 
of our joys. 



THE BEST DAY OF THE YEAR. 
F all the days that round the year, 

And make the chain complete. 
Of all the days that win your praise, 
Which is the best, my sweet ? 
From Sunday morn till Saturday night, 
Which fills you with the most delight ? 
Come near, come near, and tell me, dear, 
Which day is the best of all the year? 

She bent her head as if in thought — 

The winsome little maid — 
And fixed her gaze as if the days 

Were all out on parade; 
From early spring to the winter drear. 
The buds and blossoms of the year. 
While she pursued her eager quest 
To find the day she liked the best. 



58 Vagkant Verses. 

I thought of days to which Time lent 

A glory all their own; 
No other days with such a blaze 

Of wondrous luster shone; 
From Sunday morn till Saturday night, 
They filled the week with rare delight, 
And with a light serenely clear 
Illuminated all the year. 

My darling turned her face toward me, 

From anxious thought beguiled. 
And with her arm about my neck 
She said — the precious child ! — 
" From Sunday morn till Saturday night, 
There is no day that suits me quite 
So well as this; for you are here, 
And TO-DAY is the best of all the year ! " 



THE STORM WILL HAVE ITS WAY. 

tHE rain came beating down; the winds 
blew fierce and loud ; 
The mightiest of the trees before the 
blast were bowed ; 
And I seemed to hear them say, on that 

dark, tempestuous day: 
"Stoop, and let it pass. The storm will 
have its way." 



The Storm will have its Way. 59 

The blossoms that appeared so beautiful 

and strong, 
And held their heads up bravely all the 

summer long, 
No longer bright and gay, submissively 

could say: 
"Stoop, and let it pass. The storm will 

have its way." 

The spirit that would dare, with proud, de- 
fiant form. 

To fiirht ascainst the wiiirlwind, or battle 
with the storm, 

Fate, surely, will compel its useless rage to 
quell. 

And learn 'tis better to endure than always 
to rebel. 

Through the woods and meadows, as the ' 

tempest goes. 
They are soonest wrecked who its onward 

way oppose; 
They their fears allay who, ready to obey, 
Stoop, and let it pass. The storm will have 

its way. 

Aching, breaking heart, o'erwhelmed with 

griefs and pains. 
Weary of the beating of autumnal rains, 



60 Vagrant Verses. 

On thy knees, I say, for pluck and patience 

pray, 
Stoop, and let it pass. The storm will have 

its way. 



WITH FRESH YOUNG EYES. 

OW fair and sweet the earth appears. 
How blue and bright the skies. 
How wide the scope, 
How full of hope 
To fresh young eyes! 
From them the roses hide their thorns, 
For them the world herself adorns 
Each year anew; new charms displays 
To captivate their youthful gaze. 

The homely and familiar scenes 
Which we but notice to despise. 

Always possess 

Some loveliness 

To fresh young eyes. 
They see the sunlight shining through 
The shadows, and obtain a view 
Of charming vistas, and delight 
In what is common in our sight. 



With Fkesh Young Eyes. 61 

The world of fancy, and of fame 
And fortune, so alluring, lies, 

'Mid splendors gay, 

Not far away 

From fresh young eyes, 
That look with smiling hope and trust 
Beyond the valleys filled with dust; 
Nor at the mountains are dismayed 
That all the pathways barricade. 

The mist that veils the morning sun 
Before their vision swiftly flies. 

And every-where 

The prospect's fair 

To fresh young eyes. 
Undimraed by trials and by tears, 
Untouched by cares of later years, 
They look abroad on skies serene. 
Nor see the clouds that intervene. 

Ah, with what rapturous delight — 
Ah, with what tender, sweet surprise — 

Earth's glories burst 

Resplendent first 

On fresh young eyes ! 
What though the false appeared the true I 
What though the old appeared the new! 
'Twere better than to be too wise, 
And see no more with fresh young eyes. 



62 Vagrant Vekses. 

OVER AND OVER AGAIN. 
VER and over again, 






No matter which way I turn, 



I always find in the Book of Life 
Some lesson I have to learn ; 
I must take my turn at the mill, 

I must grind out the golden grain, 
I must work at my task with a resolute will. 
Over and over again. 

W^e cannot measure the need 

Of even the tiniest flower, 
Nor check the flow of the golden sands 

That run through a single hour; 
But the morning dew must fall. 

And the sun and the summer rain 
Must do their part, and perform it all 

Over and over again. 

Over and over again 

The brook through the meadow flows. 
And over and over again 

The ponderous mill-wheel goes : 
Once doing will not suffice, 

Though doing be not in vain; 
And a blessing failing us once or twice 

May come if we try again. 



Over and Over Again. 63 

The path that has once been trod 

Is never so rough to the feet ; 
And the lesson we once have learned 

Is never so hard to repeat. 
Though sorrowful tears may fall, 

And the heart to its depths be riven 
With storm and tempest, we need them 
all 

To render us meet for heaven. 




THE LARK'S FOSTER-MOTHER. 

PARTRIDGE roaming o'er a field, 
Espied a nest but half concealed 
By grasses overgrown. 
And from within the moss-rimmed cup 
A pretty speckled egg peeped up, 
Looking forlorn, alone. 

The timid creature, fearing ill 
Might harm the egg, already chill, 

By generous impulse stirred. 
Slipped quietly upon the nest. 
And folded close against her breast 

The cradle of a bird. 



64 Vageant Veeses. 

She watched and fed the nestliiip: small. 
And blithely answered to its call, 

As if it were her own, 
From many of her ways beguiled 
Because of this ])eculiar child 

Upon her bounty thrown. 

When she believed 'twould tiptoe out. 
And roam the harvest fields about, 

Or join the partridge throng, 
Behold, it poised its wings and flew 
Up toward the heavens, so bright and blue, 

In ecstasy of song ! 

The foster-mother looked and heard 
The carol of enfranchised bird. 

And felt a blissful thrill, 
Tliat she, so humble and so plain. 
Had helped another one to gain 

The niche 'twas meant to fill. 

And often may the lowly heart, 
I^erforming well a noble part 

To one amid life's throng. 
Awaken with a glad surprise, 
When, like a lark, the birdling flies. 

And floods the world with song. 



What is the Dark? 65 



WHAT IS THE DARK? 
1^1^ ^(^jTHAT is the dark?" I asked the 




child 
As I led her out of the lighted 
room 
Into the shadows that gathered close, 

And veiled our faces in midnight gloom, 
Hiding the luster of loving eyes, 
That lately looked out of Paradise. 

" What is the dark ? " I asked, intent 
To puzzle awhile the little maid. 

Who held my hand in a careless grasp. 
As if she wasn't a bit afraid 

Of ghost or goblin that might appear 
To test her courage as night drew near. 

I thought of the demons that filled the dark — 
Of the horrid shapes that my childhood 
knew, 
When I touched the pilloAV, and over my 
head 
The sheet and coverlet quickly drew. 
While I lay there shivering with affright. 
And longing for morn to dispel the night. 
5 



66 . Vagrant Verses. 

And I fancied a problem 'twould be to her — 
That wee little maid — as it was to me ; 

And I meant to comfort and soothe her 
well, 
And set her mind from its fancies free, 

If she shook with terror, or spoke her dread, 

As I tucked her into her little bed. 

" What is the dark ?" I asked again. 

As she ceased her prattle; "come, tell 
me, dear ; " 
And I drew her close to my loving heart. 

That I might stifle each rising fear : 
But she answered me with a courage bold, 
"*What is the dark?' Why, the lUjIit 
grown old!'''' 

Truly, O, truly ; and sweet is life 

To those whom darkness can ne'er appall ; 

Whose faith and hope are luminous when 
The deepest shadows are over all ; 

The day, like a rose, for them burns bright. 

And fades like a flower when comes the 
night. 



Repentant. 67 



REPENTANT. 

"ijrar OTHER, I kneel on the door-stone, 
^l^^l. Penitent, weary, and worn ; 
Many a mile have I wandered, 

And fasted since yesterday morn ; 
Darkness is gathering round me, 

Never again shall I roam ; 
Oj^en the door to me, mother ; 

Welcome your prodigal home! 

Father was angry — so angry — 

And stern, when he knew my disgrace ; 
He thrust me away from his presence, 

And then shut the door in my face ! 
But, mother, your love did not leave me ; 

I saw the tear ready to start, 
And knew that though guilty and banished, 

I still had a place in your heart ! 

They say you grow feebler and feebler, 

By reason of sorrow and shame ; 
That your hair is as white as a snow-wreath, 

And 't is seldom you mention my name. 
But, O, I will never believe them. 

When slander like this they repeat ; 
For the voice of my mother has called me. 

And brought me again to her feet. 



68 Vagrant Verses. 

She talked to the Saviour about me, 

And prayed — as a mother can pray ! 
And back to the fold he has brouglit me, 

The lamb who went wand'ring astray. 
I soon became weary of exile ; 

I soon became weary of sin ; 
And longed for a life that was purer ; 

But who would have taken me in ? 

O mother, dear, say you forgive me, 

And take me again to your breast ! 
Nor let me die here on the door-stone. 

Alone, unforgiven, unblest! 
Come quickly ! — a footstep approaches ! 

Not yours — but another's ! — good-bye ! 
Tell father — that God — has not — left nie- 

Outside of his threshold to die ! 



JUNE 22, 1884. 

triE breath of June was in the air, 
Its sweetness unexcelled. 
In groves of leafy luxury 

The birds their councils held, 
And all the meadows far and near 

With daisies white were pied ; 
The sun shone bright — the sky was clear- 
The day that mother died. 



June 22, 1884. 69 



A Sabbath calm — a holy hush — 

Deep o'er the senses stole, 
To calm the tumult of the mind, 

The anguish of the soul. 
The earth gave all it had to give, 

The roses bloomed with pride, 
And O, it seemed a joy to live 

The day that mother died ! 



A robin to the window came 

At early dawn, and sang 
Its matin song ; so loud and clear 

The jubilate rang. 
We closed the sash that she who slept, 

The shadowed room within. 
Might not be broken of her rest 

By such a noisy din. 



Ah, vain the watch! the loving care! 

For sometime in the night. 
Without a struggle or a sigh. 

The spirit took its flight ; 
And to the window of our hearts 

The robin came with song, 
To tell us that the one we loved 

Had joined the angel throng. 



70 Vagrant Verses. 

We scarce could realize our loss, 

So sudden came the stroke ; 
The "silver cord" against our hearts 

Snapped harshly when it broke ; 
And though the sky was bright and clear, 

Sunshine and song outside, 
Our home seemed very dark and drear 

The day that mother died. 

The wells of sorrow are not spent, 

The troubled waters flow, 
And many, many trials yet 

The living heart must know ; 
But we, familiar with the pall, 

By tenderest bonds allied. 
Tasted the bitterest cup of all 

The day that mother died. 




THE COMMON WAY. 

[rilTOW many frown at a common lot, 
(^^.l- And turn from the common way. 
Where rare exotics will blossom not. 
Nor birds at their bidding stay ; 
The dust of travel offends their sight 

When riches have taken wings. 
And they marvel at those who find delight 
In e very-day, common things. 



The Common Way. 71 

To some is given the rich estate 

Encumbered with anxious care ; 
While others still for their fortune wait 

In castles they 've built in air ; 
To one the splendor of princely halls, 

The title to noble lands ; 
To another only the crumbling walls, 

And empty and toil-worn hands. 

To one the crown and a life of ease; 

To one the cross and the pain ; 
To one the heii^hts and the stately trees, 

To another the desert plain ; 
To one will Fortune reveal the spring 

That her wonderful store unlocks ; 
While another is given the only thing 

That was left in Pandora's box. 

Good-luck may lie in an empty purse, 

A blessing in this disguise, 
And wealth too often is but a curse 

To those who have won the prize ; 
For many with Dives have gone astray, 

Remorse and regret to meet, 
While others have found that the common 
way 

Led up to the Golden Street. 




72 Vagrant Verses. 



THE CRADLE SONG. 

WAS a soft, low tune that the mother 

crooned 
As she touched the cradle where 
baby lay, 
Sleepy and cross, with a fretful toss, 
At having to pause in liis pretty play. 

A sweet, low tune, and a soft caress. 
The loving touch of a mother's hand. 

Soon quiet the child, from its sports be- 
guiled, 
And carry it captive to Slumberland. 

The restless fingers and feet are still ; 

The dear little draw -bridges drop ere 
long 
O'er the baby's eyes ; and the baby lies 

In the magic spell of its cradle song. 

With joy we list to the wondrous notes 
As the prima donna performs her part 

With a voice so clear that the birds appear 
Outdone by one who has learned their 
art. 



The Ceadle Song. IS 

But the Queen of Song, though she sing 
in truth 
With seraj^hic splendor, may lack the 
power 
To bring repose and relief to those 

Who fain would rest in the weary hour. 

And though many a melody be forgot 
By busy plodders amid life's throng, 

Yet they always hear, and they hold most 
dear. 
The old melodious cradle song. 

The old, old song, that was half a prayer 
When the mother murmured it soft and 
low. 

Again and again, with its soothing strain, 
Comes back to whisper of long ago. 

And around our hearts, and around our lives. 
These cords are woven so firm and strong, 

That when death draws near, nothing else 
we'll hear, 
But a sweet voice crooning a cradle song. 



74 Vagrant Vekses. 



THE ELDEST SISTER. 

fHE eldest sister ! — O, how soon 
The little ones on her depend, 
If in the o-rantino- of a boon 

Slie proves herself to be their friend, 
And in a kind and helpful way 
Directs their studies and their play. 

A princess of the realm she stands, 
Prompt to enforce the queen's commands, 
And her young subjects honor her, 
The dignities of rank confer, 
So that the youthful maid appears 
Older, far older than her years. 

Their little quarrels she adjusts ; 
Their little secrets each intrusts 
To her ; for she is good and wise, 
A perfect wonder in their eyes, 
And often are her praises sung 
By little folks, their mates among. 

The eldest sister I — with what grace 
She slips into the mother's place, 
When sickness enters on the scene. 
Or Death dethrones the reigning queen : 



The Eldest Sister. 



75 



Thonglitful for those who need her care, 
She beams an angel, then and there. 

Unmindful of herself, she gives 
Her heart's devotion while she lives 
To those who with their love repay 
Indebtedness from day to day, 
And value, far beyond all price, 
Her elder sisterly advice. 

O wise is she who keeps her hold 
Of all the hearts within the fold : 
A faithful guide, exemplar, friend. 
Ready to counsel and commend. 
With love, with dignity and grace, 
Filling an elder sister's place ! 




GOD BLESS THE LADS! 

LITTLE lad I used to meet. 
Long years ago, upon the sti'eet, 
Whose pleasant smile and look of 

truth. 
The sweet attractiveness of youth, 
So won my heart that I would watch 
Among the crowd his nod to catch. 



) Vagrant Verses. 

That was, upon a cloudy day, 

A bit of sunshine on my way ; 

And answering back with smile as glad, 

I said, " God bless the little lad ! " 

For him I felt an anxious care. 

In all his interests had a share. 

And planned what should his future be, 

As if he had belonged to me. 

As childless mothers, for the good 

Of hearts instinct with motherhood. 

Some little w^aif will kindly take 

And cherish well for love's dear sake, 

So I, whose lot in life was sad. 

Took to my heart this little lad. 

I knew not who his parents were. 
Or where he lived; what did I care ? 
Or if his garments were as fine 
As I should give a child of mine? 
My daily thought, my chief concern, 
Was that he might no evil learn, 
But strive in manliness to be 
Foremost, and in integrity 
To rise by every chance he had 
To prove himself an honest lad. 

'Twas years ago I used to know 
This little lad and love him so, 



God Bless the Lads ! 77 

And since our parting ne'er I've heard 

Of him, or had a single word 

To cheer my thoughts; yet all the while 

The recollection of his smile, 

His hearty laugh, his look of truth, 

The sweet attractiveness of youth. 

In many an hour have made me glad 

I ever knew the little lad. 

I cannot think he went astray, 
Or wandered in an evil way. 
But must believe he's neat and trim 
As when I first encountered him. 
And when among the news I read 
Of gallant or heroic deed, 
I feel that he would do just so — 
This little lad I used to know — 
And so I pray, while tear-drops fall, 
" God bless the lads ! God bless them 
all ! " 



THE OLD STYLE AND THE NEW. 

\T used to be the fashion once, 
But now it's out of date. 
For old folks to monopolize 
The subject of debate. 



i 



78 Vagrant Vekses. 

The child might listen, if he chose, 
Andj disciplined while young, 

He learned his elders to respect, 
And learned to hold his tongue. 

At table, father ever sought 

Discussion to prevent, 
Lest angry passions be inflamed 

By heat of argument; 
And frequently the merry laugh 

With sharp rebuke was met, 
Because — I must confess the truth — 

We were a giggling set ! 

And there were some rebellious ones 

Who frowned and made com})laint. 
Were anxious to divulge their views, 

And vexed at such restraint; 
And they declared when they were wed 

Their children should be free 
To speak their minds, Avhene'er they 
chose. 

With perfect liberty. 

The newer fashion that prevailed 
The seed of mischief sowed, 

And sparks from many anvils flew 
Old theories to explode; 



The Old Style and the Kew. 

And now, to-day, the callow brood 
Upon the world's gi-eat stage 

Are cackling all the time, nor pay 
The least respect to age. 

It may not need a heavy chain 

To hold the well-trained beast, 
But when the links are broken, lo ! 

The savage is released ! 
And they who threw the ancient laws 

And fashions overboard. 
Would like to have them back again, 

With all their rights restored. 

For in those days we did not need, 

Across the sea to roam. 
To learn the little courtesies 

That should be taught at honie; 
And wisdom by a slower growth 

To surer beauty grew ; 
The fear of God was in men's hearts, 

And infidels were few. 

Bnt nowadays the juveniles 

On weighty subjects talk, 
A skeptic is the little child 

That scarce has learned to walk ; 



80 Vagrant Verses. 

And thus indulged, and unrestrained, 
And spoiled by over-praise, 

What wonder we have drifted toward 
Irreverential days ! 



THE FAVORITE CHILD. 



fj t(^7'HICH one do I love the best ? " 



fiW 



you ask ; 



Ah, that would be hard to tell, 
For loving, to me, is an easy task. 

And I may love them all too well ; 
And though they may not be as comely and 
fair 
As many you may have known. 
Yet the mother's eye sees beauty and grace 
In each child she can call her own. 

When Jennie, our first-born, came to crown 

The morn of our married life, 
How proud my husband was of his child ! 

How proud he was of his wife ! 
Together we watched her cunning ways. 

And both for her comfort toiled, 
And made so much of our baby girl, 

'Twas a wonder she wasn't spoiled. 



The Favorite Child. 81 

And then came Belle, with her sunny 
face, 

And her laughter so light and free ; 
We thought there had never been before 

Such a frolicsome sprite as she ; 
She made no trouble about the house. 

Was always so gentle and mild. 
And merry withal, there was good excuse 

For loving the precious child. 

I>at there was Anna, so weak and frail. 

She needed my constant care. 
And the older children were forced to be 

Content with a lesser share ; 
And when to quiet her fretful moods, 

I held her close to my breast, 
I fancied I loved her most, because 

I understood her the best. 

When later on in my wedded life 

God gave me my darling boy, 
I thought that my heart — my mother- 
heart — 

Would burst from excess of joy ! 
For the Father above had heard my prayer. 

And granted my soul's request ; 
And my precious treasure ! my only son ! 

O, surely I loved him best ! 
6 



82 Vagrant Verses. 

But other children compelled my care, 

And he must be set aside ; 
And O, how he fought for the baby's place, 

And the comfort to him denied ! 
Then the trouble came ; and perchance I 
feel 

A little more tenderness 
For the youngest lamb of the flock, because 

So soon she was fatherless. 

We make mistakes ; and I may have failed 

In lessons ] strove to impart ; 
But I trust that my darlings learned how 
dear 

They were to their mother's heart. 
The loyal soul from its chosen way 

Not easily is beguiled. 
And I cannot tell, though I'm often asked, 

Which is my favorite child. 



THE FATHER'S ARMS. 

jHERE goes the baby, creeping 
Swiftly along the floor. 

Making a rapid transit 

Straight for the entry door ; 



The Father's Akms. 83 

Knowing by intuition 

Exactly the time of day 
When father, the dear old father ! 

Will start on the homeward way. 

Up fi-om their games the children — 

Robert, Jennie, and Grace — 
Spring with an eager longing 

To fly to that fond embrace ; 
For father must hear the story 

Of all their deeds and alarms, 
As closely together they nestle 

Within his protecting arms. 

Watching by door and window, 

At dusk his coming they wait. 
And whisper to one another, 

" I wonder what makes him so late ? " 
Hark ! There's a step ! 'Tis father ! 

All hushed are their vague alarms, 
And baby, with crow triumphant. 

Is first in the father's arms. 

There's room for all the children. 

Ay, and the mother beside, 
For the father-heart is loving, 

And his arms extended wide : 



84 Vagrant Verses. 

And O ! what strength, and comfort, 
And joy, and a sense of rest, 

When we are thus enfolded 

Close, close to that sturdy breast ! 

He is a happy father, 

Who, coming along the street. 
Is rendy with smiles and kisses 

His loving (^liildren to greet ; 
But what a treat he misses 

Who comes with a scowling face, 
And iinds no wife nor children 

Awaiting his cold embrace. 

Leap to his shoulder, baby ! 

Crow in excess of bliss ; 
Welcome the father, children, 

Always with loving kiss ; 
Plomes should be full of gladness, 

Hearts should be full of love. 
Types of the blest communion 

Awaiting us all above. 

Swiftly these scenes are passing, 
And soon shall the night draw near. 

When doors and windows darken. 
And a coming ste}) we hear, 



The Father's Arms. 85 

When a smile the face illummes, 
And death no longer alarms, 

For we seek the loving shelter 
Of a Father's outstretched arras. 



9i 



THE MOTHERLY WAY. 

AME Durbin was never accounted 
^^^ A beauty, not even when young, 

And yet in the highways and by- 
ways 
Her praises have often been sung, 
For she is a queen among women; 
And O, she has been in her day 
A blessing to old folks and young folks. 
Because of her motherly way. 

The boys that were sent off to college, 

That they might in knowledge abound. 
Were fortunate fellows if ever 

A home with Dame Durbin they found; 
She comforted them in their sorrows 

And trials, however so small. 
And mothered them so that they really 

Forgot to be homesick at all. 



86 Vagkant Verses. 

The love that burns strong in her bosom, 

So brightly illumines her face, 
That babies will stretch their arms toward 
her, 

And nestle within her embrace; 
While poor little wayfaring creatures, 

More ready to rule than obey, 
Will turn from their angry encounters. 

Subdued by her motherly way, 

An angel she is in affliction, 

With power to comfort and bless 
All those who are sick, or in need of 

A soft, loving word or caress; 
And, O, her beneficent spirit 

Its beauty and graces display 
In such a bright, bounteous fashion. 

In such a dear, motherly way. 

What wonder that hearts shoidd adore 
her? 

What wonder her lovers proclaim 
Her fairest and sweetest of women, 

With reverence speaking her name ? 
Ah me ! there's no queen in the kingdom 

Commanding such marvelous sway 
As she with the grace and the wisdom 

To reign in a motherly way ! 



If I WERE You. 87 



IF I WERE YOU. 

^^ . ., 

TTLF I were you, my precious maid, 

II In youthful, radiant charms arrayed, 

I would not in each public place, 

'Mid brazen crowd display my face, 

Nor laugh aloud, nor rudely stare, 

At others on the thoroughfare, 

Nor flirt as many maidens do. 

If I were you. 

If I were you, I would not be 
On short acquaintance quite so free ; 
Nor would I rapturously gush 
O'er things that are not worth a rush. 
For though my pleasure might be great, 
I would not be a rattle-pate, 
But let my words be choice and few. 
If I were you. 

If I were you, I would resolve 

In quiet circles to revolve. 

Nor spend my days and nights, dear girl, 

Within the merry, maddening whirl 

Where giddy Fashion leads the way, 

And all is dazzle and display. 

I would not such a life pursue, 

If I were you. 



88 Vagrant Verses. 

If I were you, my heart I'd hold 
Above the price of sordid gold ; 
Nor be in haste with it to part 
To any one in Cupid's mart. 
A wise and gracious life I'd lead, 
The counsels of my elders heed. 
Beginning now the year is new, 

If I were you. 




THE HEART OF A CHILD. 

QUEER, little, quaint old woman 
Walked slowly along the street ; 
Her garments, though old and thread- 
bare. 
Were perfectly clean and neat ; 
And though with a painful effort 

She moved — then rested a while — 
Her wrinkled features were often 
Illumed by a lovely smile. 

The little children beheld her, 

And pitied her sluggish pace, 
But marveled more when they lifted 

Their eyes to her aged face, 



The Heart of a Child. 89 

And noticed the smile upon it ; 

For it seemed, in very truth, 
As if old Time had forgotten 

The charm of her vanished youth. 

And always the smile was brighter 

When little children drew near ; 
Glowing — lingering — fading, 

And losing itself in a tear. 
And one little thoughtful maiden, 

Not fearing to question why, 
Said, " Haven't you any children. 

And is that the reason you cry ? " 

With a sob in the throat that hindered 

The answer, the old woman said, 
In a whisper, " I — had — children 

Once— but they 're now all dead ! " 
With quivering lip the maiden 

Had listened ; her heart beat fast 
With pity. " Fm awfully sorry ! " 

She fervently said at last, 

" And I wish T could let you have, ma'am. 

One of my brothers here ; 
But I don't believe I could spare one. 

For they are so very dear. 



90 Vagrant Verses. 

" God bless you, my child, forever ; 

God bless you ! " the dame replied ; 
And hiding her face in her apron. 

She bitterly sobbed and cried. 

The dear little maid was troubled, 

There were tears in her eyes of blue, 
And she said, after thinking a moment, 

"I'll tell you what I will do: 
You may kiss us once if you'd like to. 

And, if little Ben doesn't mind, 
You may give him some extra kisses — 

He's as sweet as sugar, you'll find." 

Round the neck of the strange old woman 

Tlieir arms were tenderly thrown. 
And they gave her as hearty kisses 

As if she had been their own ; 
And many a passer wondered 

At seeing her thus caressed. 
Despite her shabby old garments, 

By children so richly dressed. 

They knew not how little children 
Are touched at the sight of grief. 

Nor how, at an angel's whisper, 
They hasten to give relief ; 



The Heart of a Child. 91 

Nor heard they the poor old woman 
Exclaim, as she turned away, 

" Why, I haven't been as light-hearted 
As this for many a day ! " 



HER RIGHT-HAND MAN. 

ir(^THEN only a little toddler, Dan 
^^1/!^ Was always his mother's right-hand 

man ; 
Rocking the babies, Gus and Fred, 
Tucking them in the trundle-bed ; 
Ready to run up stairs or down. 
Or off on errands without a frown ; 
Ready to do, like a faithful son, 
Whatever his mother wanted done. 

Her liivhtest call he was quick to obey ; 
Ready to leave his work or his play 
AVithout a murmur ; and were she ill, 
He nursed her then with exceeding skill, 
And dainty dishes for her prepared, 
And for her comfort tenderly cared. 
Son and daughter in one was Dan, 
His mother's blessing, her right-hand man ! 



92 Vagrant Verses. 

At twenty-one he'd a right to plan 

For a home of his own — this loyal Dan — 

And choose from among the girls a wife 

To share the comforts of wedded life, 

Mother was ailing, and needed more 

Her son's assistance than ever before, 

And Dan would his marriage for years 

defer 
Ere causing one jealous pang to her. 

If wishing would bring them, every boy 
Would be to his mother a source of joy, 
And never a grief or a pain impart 
To her affectionate, faithful heart. 
Angels above our deeds record ; 
Love brings ever its own reward ; 
And 'tis never a burden or grief to Dan 
To serve as his mother's right-hand man. 

And she ? Why, bless you ! so much of 

joy 

And pride she feels in her precious boy, 

That the sound of his voice will send a flush 

To her face as bright as a maiden's blush. 

And O ! 'tis a pretty sight to meet 

This loving couple upon the street ; 

And many a maiden smiles at Dan, 

And envies the mother her right-hand man. 



Confession. 93 



CONFESSION. 




H, sweet the life I might have spent. 
In satisfaction and content, 
In heaven's own peaceful element, 
With you, my love, with you ! 



How charmful would have been the days, 
llow fresh and fragrant all life's ways, 
When wandering through its tangled maze 
With you, my love, with you. 

But when I'm waking, or asleep. 
Upon the land or on the deep. 
Blest intercourse I seem to keep 
With you, my love, with you. 

T feel your spirit's presence near, 
To warn, to comfort, and to cheer ; 
And bright angelic ones appear 
With you, my love, with you. 

Some day this loneliness will end ; 
Death will restore to me my friend ; 
And all eternity I'll spend 

With you, my love, with you. 



94 Vagrant Vekses. 



THE LAUGH OF A LITTLE CHILD. 
Tfi T OW many a heart lias been freed from 



e^^ care, 

From sorrowful thoughts beguiled, 
And turned anew to a gladsome strain, 

By the laugh of a little child ! 
As fresh and sweet as the song of birds 

With a sparkle and burst of cheer. 
It scatters the spell of loneliness 

As it falls on the listening ear. 

It takes us back to our childhood's home. 

When we were as glad and gay, 
Unvexed by the trials and toils of life 

That trouble our hearts to-day ; 
We look once more on the hmdscnpe fair 

Where the cheerful sunlight smiled, 
And the sweetest music about the house 

Was the laugh of a little child. 

We may keep the voice that we had in 
youth, 

And Time, as he passes by. 
May touch us lightly, and leave undimmed 

The luster of beaming eye ; 



The Laugh of a Little Child. 95 

But though our lot has been strangely blest, 
Though Fortune has kindly smiled, 

Too soon do we lose the merry heart 
And the laugh of a little child. 

When dreams are broken, and fancies 
spoiled. 

And the world has ceased to bless, 
And we seem with a lonely heart to tread 

The sands of the wilderness. 
Away from the haunts of grief we're 
brought, 

Away from the desert wild. 
And the fountains of hope are stirred afresh 

By the laugh of a little child. 

Then let the little ones laugh aloud, 

Nor lightly their mirth restrain. 
For soon, full soon is the music lost 

That cannot be learned again ; 
And many a burdened heart has been 

From sorrowful thoughts beguiled. 
And the sunshine and peace of home re- 
stored 

By the laugh of a little child. 



96 Vageant Verses. 



TWO FRIENDS. 



Irilo 2TL ^I^^^^ ne'er be content with a 
A A r^-ii room or two 

In a modest house," said the liaughty 
maid, 
As her airy castle she wandered through. 

Where the children of fancy 23layed. 
" I would have a palace, and live in state. 

With plenty of servants at my command. 
And only to those who were rich and great. 

Would I offer a friendly hand. 

" I must live at ease ; and shall wed, in 
truth, 

Despite the many suspicious hints, 
No love-lorn stripling or simple youtli. 

But a nabob, if not a prince. 
For what is the use of power or pride. 

The shapely form, or the hue of health, 
If with these gifts we are still denied 

The sfreater blessinir of wealth ! 



!=> 



" You may laugh if you choose, but I've no 
belief 

In Love in a cottage, or Love at all ; 
For the little cherub must come to grief 

If held in a homely thrall. 



Two Friends. 97 

So I will marry a man of mark, 

And keep my carriage and live in style, 

And I'd better quench this presuming 
spark 
At whose devotion I smile." 



"I'd rather have love," said the Saxon 
maid, 

"Whose laugh was hearty and full of 
cheer, 
" Than all the princes with their parade 

And ten thousand poun,ds a year ! 
And whether I'll live in a stately court. 

Or up in a garret when I am wed, 
Why, I never give it a single thought ! 

It never enters my head ! " 

Time passed ; and the children are matrons 

HOW, 

Ami Fortune her wonderful pranks has 
played 
Till Hope no longer illumes the brow 
Or the heart of the haughty maid, 
Who lives in a very modest way 

In ft little town ; and her daily life 
Is a daily torture, I'm free to say, 
Sinee she is a poor man's wife ! 
1 



98 Vagrant Verses. 

While the Saxon maid, in her pride and 
power, 

Of noble presence and cheerful mien, 
With love and fortune alike her dower. 

Reigns well as a social queen. 
And the god of mischief who does his part 

In thus dispensing the ills of fate. 
Alone can tell how a human heart 

May grieve o'er its lost estate. 



MOTHER'S ROOM. 



THERE isn't another place in the 

house 

So full of beauty, so free from gloom^ 
No other retreat one half so sweet 

As mother's room ! 
'Tis there we gather to tell our wrongs ; 
'Tis there we gather to sing our songs ; 
To seek wise counsel, and oft impart 
The fears that trouble the tender heart. 

Why, even the baby, the least of all. 
The pet of the house, will fret and fume, 
And its grief display if. kept away 
From mother's room. 



Mother's Room. 99 

And when the door on its hinges turns, 
And the face is seen for which baby yearns, 
The liglit of rapture is in the eyes 
That seem to look into paradise. 

Ko delicate draperies rich and fine. 
No costly fabrics from foreign loom. 
No ornaments rare are clustered there, 

In mother's room. 
But plain and simple, and not profuse. 
For ease, and comfort, and homely use, 
Are the treasures found in that blest re- 
treat. 
That without the mother were incomplete. 

O there may be dwellings of quaint device. 
With lovely gardens and wealth of bloom, 
That never may own a nook that's known 

As mother's room ; 
The shrine at which we have bent the knee 
In holy and happy idolatry, 
Wherein the altar of Love imparts 
Its genial glow to the children's hearts ! 

A light streams out from that lovely place 
To brighten life's path, audits depths illume, 
As we wander back over memory's track 
To mother's room. 



100 Vagrant Veeses. 

We meet again as we met of yore ; 
Again we're telling our troubles o'er ; 
Again we're clasped to the loving breast 
That always seemed our haven of rest. 

And when the light from our home is gone, 
And she is no longer with us to w^hom 
We owe the bliss that we found in this 

Dear mother's room, 
We shall always hold it a sacred place. 
And always fancy we see her face 
When we open the door, despite the gloom. 
And to us it will always be mother'' s room. 



A MOTHER-BOY. 



jTiTE was always a gentle and thoughtful 

'S3- '^-j' 

The only son that his parents had. 
And though both confessed him their pride 

and joy, 
He was really and truly his mother's boy. 

When he came from school, when he came 

from play, 
O ! ever so many times a day, 
He would spring to her lap, and seldom miss 
A chance to give her a loving kiss. 



A MOTHEIJ-BOY. 101 

She humored and petted the little lad ; 
A downright scolding he never had ; 
For him she planned, for him she toiled, 
And the wonder is that he was not spoiled. 

The other boys, with their saucy flings 
About his being " in apron strings," 
Were rude and coarse, and would oft de- 
stroy 
The peace of mind of this mother-boy. 

The mother-love, like a cable strong. 
Drew him away from the wicked throng. 
And made him conscious that near her 

side 
Was the sweetest and safest place to abide. 

The lad grew up so his mother could 
Lean on him in her widowhood ; 



And O ! what a comfort it was, and joy. 
To feel that she had such a mother-boy ! 

There were other mothers whose hopes were 

wrecked 
Because of their children's harsh neglect ; 
Who were kept in a region forlorn and 

cold. 
Because, forsooth ! they were growing old ! 



102 Vagrant Verses. 

But she still reigned in her home, and knew 
Her children were faithful, fond, and true ; 
And her staff and solace, when near life's 

span. 
Is the mother-boy — now a gray-haired man. 



LOVE, THE SAILING-MASTER. 

SHIP went sailing out to sea 
With all her colors flying ; 
O! costly was the argosy 
The winds and waves defying ! 
And none of those who saw her start 

But prophesied disaster 
To the pretty ship, on her trial-trip, 
With Love as the sailing-master. 

The port she left seemed fair enough. 

Nor guessed she what commotion 
Lay just beyond; the billows rough, 

The fury of the ocean. 
Were all unknown, yet still she sped, 

And nothing fleeter passed her, 
With sweep and dip, on her trial-trip. 

With Love as the sailino:-master. 



Love, the Sailing-Master. 103 

Ah ! many a good ship passing by, 

The pretty craft discerning, 
Their colors dipped, but came not nigh, 

Though for her capture yearning ; 
For by them all she proudly swept. 

And scorned the lures they cast her ; 
With gold unbought, with gold uncaught. 

Where Love was the sailing-master. 

Then o'er the billows like a bird 

There came a good ship flying, 
With sails by favoring breezes stirred, 

A royal prize descrying ; 
And e'en when baffling winds did blow. 

This good ship followed faster 
The bark that fled so far ahead, 

With Love as the sailing-master, 

And when at last on her trial-trip 

The pretty bark was spoken. 
Each found in the other a consort-ship. 

Exchanging the precious token ; 
And gayly o'er life's sea they go, 

Prepared to meet disaster. 
But fearing no wreck, though storms 
sweep the deck. 

With Love as the sailing-master ! 



104 Vagrant Yekses. 



WOUNDED. 

^S^IS easier to bear 

^ ^ The heaviest weight of care, 
The shock of battle, and the prisoner's fare, 

Than to endure the pain 

Of bitter words, that gain 
An entrance to the heart, and there remain. 

'Tis such an easy thing, 

A cruel taunt to fling. 
We often smile when others feel the sting ; 

But how the blood is stirred 

By an ungracious word 
From one above all other friends preferred ! 

The castle may not fall, 

Nor enemies appal, 
If there are loyal watchmen on the wall ; 

But ope the doors to sin. 

And troubles soon begin, 
A single traitor letting thousands in. 

'Tis easier to heal 
The suffering we feel 
From bullet wound, or thrust of glittering 
steel. 



Wounded. 105 

Than to remove the dart, 
The agonizing smart, 
An unkind word may give a loving heart. 

'Tis easier to die, 

And bid the world good-bye, 
When youth, and health, and happiness beat 
high, 

Than to live on, and brood 

In weary solitude, 
Misrepresented and misunderstood . 




SHE AND I. 

[\^J'E. had a little quarrel 
She and I ; 
We thought to mend our quarrel 
By and by ; 
But we made such long delay 
The forgiving word to say, 
That we drifted far away. 
She and I. 

We had been friends together, 

She and I, 
Through clear and cloudy weather. 

She and I ; 



106 Vagrant Verses. 

Our friendsliip we'd declared, 
Our cares and comforts shared, 
And most pleasantly had fared, 
She and I. 

No evil genius dreading, 

She and I 
Spoke freely of our wedding 

By and by ; 
And talked, as lovers do, 
Of a cozy nest for two ; 
Such a home we had in view, 

She and I. 

We met, and were light-hearted. 

She and I ; 
But sorrowfully parted. 

She and 1 ; 
And though bitter the regret 
At the broken amulet. 
We have never spoken yet. 

She or I. 

They say I'm rather mulish ; 

That may be ; 
And I was young and foolish — 

So was she ; 



Sue and I. 107 

'Twas a quarrel most absurd, 
And I can't recall a word, 
And just how the breach occurred 
Puzzles me. 

"We had a foolish quarrel, 

She and I, 
That furnishes a moral — 

Who'll deny ? 
So if any one offends 
Let him haste to make amends ; 
If he waits he'll have no friends 

By and by. 



BACK TO HIS MOTHER. 

fHE stood at the gate with an anxious 
face, 
A mother with soul distressed ; 
And they held her back with the eager 
crowd 
That close to the barriers pressed. 
" You cannot pass ! " said the warder grim, 

" Your efforts are all in vain ; 
My orders are to let no one in 

But those who would take the train ! " 



108 Vagrant Veeses. 

There were husbands waiting their wives' 
return, 
There were brothers and lovers, too, 
Impatiently wandering up and down, 

For the train was; long overdue. 
There were fair young maidens in merry 
mood. 
And none were so sore distressed 
As she who stood at the barricade 

With her hands clasped tight o'er her 
breast. 



" I tell you, madam, you cannot pass ! " 

Said the warder beside the gate ; 
"Nor can you hurry the train along, 

So you'd better sit down and wait ! " 
A shade passed over the aged face 

That wore not a gleam of joy, 
As she said, in a low and tremulous voice, 

" I'm here, sir, to meet my boy ! " 



"To meet your boy? Then why, should 
you make. 

Good woman, this strange ado ? 
Sit patiently there in the waiting-room. 

And your boy will soon come to you ! " 



Back to His Mother. 109 

" Would God that he could ! " the mother 
exclaimed, 

With eyes from which hope had fled ; 
" He'd come to me surely with eager feet, 

But alas, sir, my boy is dead ! " 

" Dead ! " said the warder, and turned the 
key 
In the bolt with no more delay, 
For before the grief of a loving heart 

The locks and the law gave way ; 
And the train, like a monster all out of 
breath, 
Crawled under the ample shed, 
And the crowd passed out through the 
gates, and left 
The mother alone with her dead ! 



THE LESSONS OF THE STREET. 

N the corners we may find them, 

Or in clusters here and there : 
In the day-time or the night-time, 
All along the thoroughfare ; 
Standing idly and forgetting 

They should earn the bread they eat, 
Are the many who are learning 
All the lessons of the street. 



110 Vagkant Yeeses. 

In their homes is naught inviting ; 

Poverty and vs^ant are there ; 
Wasteful demons — thirsting ever — 

Serve to keep the cupboard bare ; 
And the little babies wander 

Out of doors, on toddling feet, 
Quick to learn the lessons taught them 

Every hour upon the street. 

Shame and Crime their ready pupils 

Here, of every age, may find ; 
Sons of wealth and rank, to Evil 

And to Idleness inclined ; 
In the school of Vice progressing, 

They with base-born rogues compete, 
Who have won a high distinction 

From their training in the street. 

Maidens fresh in youthful beauty, 

Cherished in the heart and home ; 
Dearly loved ones — vain and thought 
less — 

From the fireside choose to roam ; 
Knowing not the many dangers 

And disasters they may meet, 
By their everyday attendance 

On the lessons of the street. 



The Lessons of the Street. Ill 

Many a life that started bravely. 

Full of promise, pride, and zeal — 
Stirred within by holy passions 

That the knavish never feel — 
Has been overthrown in battle : 

Led to sure and swift defeat 
By the poison and pollution 

Of the lessons of the street. 



O ye mothers ! train your darlings 

So to love their homes, that they 
With the idle and the vicious 

Will not ever go astray. 
With a chain of strong affection 

Bind them to tliis safe retreat, 
That their minds may not be tainted 

By the lessons of the street. 



THROUGH AND THROUGH. 

LITTLE thought and a little care, 
A little tenderness now and then, 
A gracious speech and a courtly air 
May give one rank among gentlemen ; 




112 Vagrant Verses. 

But he who merits the highest place, 

Though clad in homespun he be, 'tis true, 

Is one who carries a heart of grace. 

And is really a nobleman through and 
through. 



Ah, not to a leaflet here and there 

Is the lovely scent of the rose conveyed ; 
Nor is there a corner within it, where 

The fragrance lurks, and the treasure's 
laid; 
But every petal is truly filled — 

Pink or crimson, or saffron hue — 
With odors rich, by the dews distilled ; 

And the rose is a sweet rose through and 
through. 



And yonder billow with foaming crest. 

So bright and sparkling, so glad and free, 
May seem of a lighter make than the rest 

Of the mighty sweep of the solemn sea ; 
But there's not a drop in the crucible, 

Never a drop since the world was new, 
That wouldn't the self-same story tell. 

That the sea is a salt sea through and 
through. 



Through and Through. 113 

The tree is stunted, the vine is spoiled, 
There's neither blossom, nor leaf, nor 
fruit, 
When the sap in its upward reach is foiled, 

And fettered close in the tangled root. 
And there's nothing sound, and there's noth- 
ing strong. 
There's nothing good, and there's nothing 
t^ue. 
That is not honestly — right along — 
Sweet and savory through and through. 



Faithfully faithful to every trust ; 

Honestly honest in every deed; 
Righteously righteous, and justly just. 

This is the whole of the good man's creed. 



AT THE CLOSE OF DAY. 

I HE old man sat in the chimney nook. 

With the Bible upon his knee, 
And his eyes had a far-away, happy look. 
For he saw what we could not see. 
And he spoke in a gentle, caressing tone 
To those he had loved and had called his 
'Qwn : 
8 



114 Vageant Verses. 

" Yes, Mary, the baby is wondrous fair. 

With its eyes of violet blue. 
And it has your forehead and golden hair ; 

I am glad it looks like you ; 
For a sweeter woman there ne'er could be 
Than the one who cast her lot with me ! 

" Dead ! There are tears on the coffin-lid, 
But, my dear, we must not weep, 

For the ways of God from our sight are hid. 
Our little one is asleep ; 

The song and the sunsliine with her are fled. 

But our hearts assure us she is not dead. 

" And the boys, dear Mary, how fast they 
grew 

To be bearded and brilliant men ! 
Even poor little Johnny ! — we never knew 

That he held a magic pen. 
But I'm sure he will never write, nor speak, 
A word that would crimson a maiden's cheek. 

" They're boys to be proud of, I tell you, wife. 

And better could not be had. 
For they were not given to foolish strife. 

And not one went to the bad. 
And amid their manhood's trials and cares. 
They'll always remember their mother's 
prayers. 



At the Close of Day. 115 

" We used to sit in the fading light, 

Under the maple-tree, 
And talk together ; 'tis almost night, 

Come, Mary, and sit by me. 
That's right ; and the children ? are they all 

here ? 
I have been so lonely without you, dear ! " 



The old man sat in the chimney nook, 
With the Bible upon his knee. 

And his eyes had a far-away, happy look, 
For he saw what we could not see. 

And with his beloved ones, a spirit-band. 

He had entered into the Morning Land. 



A PLEASANT JOURNEY. 
"wXn OTL HAVE had such a pleasant iour- 

Said grandmother, as she lay 
On her couch by the open window 

At the close of a summer day, 
When the twilight was melting slowly 

Away to the night's embrace, 
And a glow of celestial beauty 

Lay soft on the dear old face. 



116 Vagrant Veeses. 

"I have had such a pleasant journey ! " 

She whispered again, so low 
That we knew she was busy thinking 

Of days that were long ago ; 
Though worn were the aged fingers, 

And weary the pilgiim feet. 
The way must have had some gladness 

Since the memory was so sweet. 

Though none of her loved comp;inions, 

The friends of her early prime, 
Wei'e near with their recollections 

And tokens of olden time ; 
Though the graves of her hopes and 
kindred 

Were dotted along the past, 
" It has been such a pleasant journey," 

She whispered, " from first to last ! " 

Never a word of the briers 

By which her feet had been torn ; 
Never a word of the burdens 

And trials that she had borne ; 
And never, through all the journey, 

Had any one coming nigh her 
Detected the smell on her garments 

That told of the furnace lire ! 



A Pleasant Journey. 11 V 

For the Lord had been ever with her, 

And given her so much grace, 
That the sorrows her heart had suffered 

Had left on her brow no trace, 
Except the calm, peaceful shining 

His favor alone can impart, 
And that rests like a benediction 

On those Avho are pure in heart. 

And those who had heard the story 

Of her sad and eventful life, 
Of the trouble that early found her, 

Of the wearisome toil and strife, 
Were lost in a dream of wonder 

That she could so sweetly say, 
" I have had such a pleasant journey ! " 

At the closing hour of the day. 

It is not by years, though threescore 

And ten o'er our heads have rolled, 
It is not on earthly records 

The measure of life is told ; 
But they have lived best and noblest. 

Who, gentle and loving and brave. 
Have made it a pleasant journey 

From the cradle unto the grave. 




^ 



118 Vagrant Verses. 



THE LONELY MOTHER. 

FOR a chance to rest, 

O, for the blissful quiet, 
Away from the children's noise, 
Away from their romp and riot ! " 
The mother said, with a sigh. 

And the look as of one distracted 
By the tumult she could not quell, 
And the duties of her exacted. 

From morning till late at night 

Day in and day out she has, may be, 
To scold at a fractious boy, 

Or comfort a restless baby. 
Tom was naughty and wild. 

And constantly needed chiding, 
Kate was a saucy child, 

In need of a mother's guiding ; 

Sly as a fox was Ben, 

And full of his tricks was Jerry ; 
And a topsy-turvy house 

It was when they all made merry. 
Never a chance to rest ! 

Never a bit of quiet ! 
No wonder the mother dear 

Was almost distracted by it ! 



The Lonely Mother. 119 

But not too long at her side 

The troublesome comforts tarried ; 
Tom had a taste for the sea ; 

Katy was young when she married ; 
Ben crossed the continent 

To add to his store of knowledge ; 
And Jerry went off to learn 

More pranks at a certain college. 

And all alone by herself, 

With longings she cannot smother, 
Beside her desolate hearth 

Sits the lonely and sad-faced mother ; 
With no little children near 

To keep up a merry riot ; 
Ah ! now that she has her wish. 

The house is by far too quiet. 



CROSSING THE FERRY. 

^HE boat was not in, and the ci-owd 
kept increasing, 

The tide flowing in through the gate 

without ceasing; 
The young and the aged, the sad and the 

merry, 
Were there for the purpose of crossing the 

ferry. 



120 Vageant Veeses. 

The man at the wheel like a sentinel waited ; 

'Twas little he cared that the boat was be- 
lated ; 

But O! in the crowd were impatient ones, 
very, 

Much vexed at detentions in crossing the 
ferry. 

There were mothers whose little ones surely 
would worry ; 

There were lawyers and doctors in des- 
perate hurry ; 

Mechanics and porters with goods to de- 
liver 

In haste on the opposite side of the river. 

The rich and the poor were all huddled 

together, 
Some talking of fashions, and some 0f the 

weather. 
While anxiously waiting the long-delayed 

wherry 
They found so convenient for crossing the 

ferry. 

There were lovers, with flowers and flattery 

laden ; 
There was many a beautiful, dutiful maiden ; 



Crossing the Feruy. 121 

And with innocent laughter and mirth they 

made merry, 
Beguiling the time spent in crossing the 

ferry. 

There were others who stood quite apart in 

their sadness 
From those who were sparkling with youth 

and with gladness, 
Their loved and their lost they were going 

to bury 
In Greenwood ; for this were they crossing 

the ferry. 

Ah, hither and thither we toil and we travel, 

In striving Life's tangled-up skeins to un- 
ravel ; 

And whether we grieve all the day or make 
merry, 

We all have our purpose in crossing the 
ferry. 



122 Vagrant Verses. 



AT THE PAWN-SHOP DOOR. 

TTN the winter morning early, when only a 
IL. few were astir, 

And the sh utters were np at the windows, 
and the snow lay white in the streets, 
As the wheels of travel and traffic were be- 
ginning to whizz and whirr, 
And the sunshine drove the shadows like 
ghosts from their dark retreats. 
From out the tenement houses, from cellars 
so cold and damp. 
That the humid blossoms of death gleam 
whitely on wall and floor. 
The watchful sentinels stole away from the 
waking camp. 
And, shivering with cold and hunger, ap- 
peared at the pawn-shop door. 

There was one in her widow's weeds who 
had striven from day to day 
To keep her children in comfort, with 
plenty of food to eat, 
But the rent would be due to-morrow, she'd 
not the money to pay, 
And O, the disgrace and horror of being 
turned into the street ! 



At the Pawn-Shop Door. 123 

She looked about her in anguish for some- 
thing that she could spare 
From her tenderly hoarded treasure — a 
scanty yet precious store — 
And bearing away the jewel that proudly 
she used to wear, 
In the dusk of a winter morning she 
stood at the pawn-shop door. 



There were others who gathered round her 
whose faces too well betrayed 
The shrine at which they worshiped, the 
vice that had bitten in 
Through the fiber of all their being, till un- 
blushingly they displayed 
The tokens of their enslavement, the taints 
and traces of sin. 
They are regular comers, by the demon of 
drink accursed, 
The lazy and tattered " bummers," albeit 
of bi-eadth and brawn, 
Who are di'iven at early morning by the 
scourge of a terrible thirst — 
Ah ! little have they to hope for whose 
souls are already in pawn ! 



124 Vageant Verses. 

But there outside of the group, with fingers? 
aching and red, 
A little boy with a bundle slips into a 
vacant place ; 
There are no shoes on his feet, not much of 
a cap on his head, 
And the great big tears run over the 
shrunken and care-worn face. 
He is hungry and cold and wretched ; there 
is no fire on the hearth, 
Not a bit of bread in the cujiboard, nor 
even a scrap of meat ; 
And the little brothers and sisters are stran- 
gers to joy and mirth, 
When they're pinched by the cold of win- 
ter, and haven't enough to eat. 



Ah ! sad enough is the picture, and little 
we dream or know 
Of the terrible storms encountered, the 
anguish and sore distress 
Of many we daily meet in our journeying to 
and fro, 
Whom we never have thought to pity, 
and never have cared to bless. 



At the Pawn-Shop Door. 125 

And driven before the wind of a merciless 
cruel fate, 
Like vessels shorn of their sails and urged 
to a rocky shore. 
Bereft of their early hopes, and swept from 
their high estate, 
Pitiful wrecks ! they're stranded close to 
the pawn-shop door. 



HAVE FAITH IN THE BOY. 
iffiTAVE faith in the boy, not believing 



AL JL That he is the worst of his kind, 
In league with the army of Satan, 
And only to evil inclined ; 
But daily to guide and control him. 

Your wisdom and patience employ, 
And daily, despite disappointment 
And sorrow, have faith in the boy. 

Have faith to believe that some moment 

In life's strangely checkered career. 
Convicted, subdued, and repentant. 

The prodigal son will appear ; 
The gold in his nature rejecting 

The dark and debasing alloy, 
Illuming your spirit with gladness 

Because you had faith in the boy. 



126 Vagrant Verses. 

Though now he is wayward and stubborn, 

And keeps himself sadly aloof 
From those who are anxious and fearful, 

And ready with words of reproof — 
Have faith that the prayers of a mother 

His wandering feet will arrest, 
And turn him away from his follies 

To weep out his tears on her breast. 

The brook that goes dashing and dancing. 

We may not divert from its course 
Until the wild turbulent spirit 

Has somewhat expended its force ; 
The brook is the life of the river ; 

And if we the future might scan. 
We'd find that a boisterous boyhood 

Gave vigor and life to the man. 

Ah, many a boy has been driven 

Away from his home by the thought 
That no one believed in his goodness, 

Nor dreamed of the battles he fought. 
So if you would help him to conquer 

The foes that are prone to annoy, 
Encourage him often with kindness. 

And show you have faith in tlie boy. 



Have Faith in the Boy. 127 

Have faith in his good resolutions, 

Believe that at last he'll prevail, 
Though now he's forgetful and heedless. 

Though day after day he may fail. 
Your doubts and suspicious misgivings 

His hope and his courage destroy, 
So if you'd secure a brave manhood 

'Tis well to have faith in the boy. 



WHEN DAVE COMES IN. 

t HOUGH at its height the fun may be, 
And every one intent 
To do his best to keep along 
The flow of merriment, 
At once the tide of glee will fall, 

Hushed is the merry din, 
And gloomy silence steals o'er all 
When Dave comes in. 

For Dave is such a solemn chap, 

He does not hke a noise. 
Nor does he like the madcap ways 

Of healthy girls and boys ; 
And so we wait till he goes out, 

And then we all begin 
To race and romp, and laugh and shout, 
Till Dave comes in. 



128 Vagrant Verses. 

I only hope he'll fall in love 

Some day with soQie sweet maid, 

Who of his military ways 
Will never be afraid ; 

A little woman, glad and bright, 
To wit and mirth akin, 

Whose face will sparkle with delight 
When Dave comes in. 

And then, O may I live to see 
The day ! I hope there'll be 

A lot of children in the house 
Brimful of boisterous glee ; 

Who oft in chorus w^ill unite, 
A gay, good-humored din, 

And crow and caper with delight 
When Dave comes in. 

Then Dave will be a happier man 

By far than he is now ; 
And smiles will chase away these frowns 

And furrows from his brow. 
Love, haste the day ! and bring about 

The change ; for 'tis a sin 
That so much sunshine should go out 
When Dave comes in. 



The Best Ship Afloat. 129 



THE BEST SHIP AFLOAT. 



r-jr 



F all the ships afloat 
On Atlantic or Pacific, 
Or far within the tropics 
On the Indian Ocean's breast, 
With white sails all a-glearaing. 
With brilliant colors streaming, 
There's no ship 
Like Friendship, 
The stanchest and tlie best ! 

When tempests hover nigh, 
And the sea is lashed to fury, 
When loudly roar the breakers, 

And above the sea-gulls swarm; 

When skies are overclouded, 

Aud sunshine is enshrouded, 

There's no ship 

Like Friendship 

To battle with the storm ! 

A welcome sight is she. 
Wherever we may meet her, 
With canvas spread out finely. 

With pennon bright and blue ; 
9 



130 V AGE ANT YeESES. 

To none she is a stranger, 
And in the hour of danger 

There's no ship 

Like Friendship 
To lead us safely through ! 

From port to port she sails, 

The bearer of dispatches 

From Love, the mighty monarch. 

Her outfit all complete ; 
And though little skiff or clipper 
May in a race outstrip her, 
There's no ship 
Like Friendship 
In all the royal fleet ! 

Of all the ships afloat 
On Atlantic or Pacific, 
Or far within the tropics 

On the Indian Ocean's breast, 
With white sails all a-gleaming. 
With brilliant colors streaming. 
There's no ship 
Like Friendship, 
The stanchest, and the best ! 



I 



The Hardest Task. 131 



THE HARDEST TASK. 

'j hRIS bard to labor from morn till night, 
To plow the furrow and pluck the 
weeds, 

For those who poorly the task requite, 
And care but little for all our needs ; 
But the hardest work is to get along 
With those who never do any thing wrong. 



You're sure to meet in the course of life 
With men and women who freely state 

Their own opinions, with yours at strife, 
And you may endeavor to set them 
straight ; 

But you'll find it wiser to jog along 

Than argue with those who never do wrong. 



They go their way, with a smile, no doubt. 
At us who suffer such pains and aches 

And mental torture, at finding out 

That we've committed some grave mis- 
takes ; 

With pride unbroken, erect, and strong. 

Are those who never do any thing wrong. 



132 Vagrant Verses. 

You may note their faults, and attempt to 
prove 
Wherein they err, but as well essay 
With a cambric needle the rock to move 
That fills the passage, and blocks your 
way ; 
You may talk by the hour with tears in 

your eyes, 
But they'll never confess nor apologize. 

They never come with a tearful face, 
And tender kisses, to make amends 
For wounds inflicted ; or say with grace, 
" I'm sorry ! forgive me, and let's be 
friends ! " 
But stern and unyielding they move along 
Convinced they have never done any tiling- 
wrong. 

This is a work-a-day world we're in, 

And toils and troubles their round repeat ; 

But out of the tangles some gold we spin ; 
And out of the bitter extract some sweet ; 

But the hardest work is to get along 

With those who never do any thing wrong ! 



The Wheel Goes Round. 133 



THE WHEEL GOES ROUND. 

THOUGH daily we may plan and jjlot, 
[K Each day we're sure to find, 
To our distress, that things are not 
Exactly to our mind ; 
And useless 'tis to grieve and fret, 

Or meet our fate with frowns, 
For life was never perfect yet 
Without its ups and downs. 

The wheel goes round and round ; 

The wheel goes round and round ; 
And those who now are at the top 

Will soon be on the ground; 
And those who at the bottom lie 

Will then be at the top ; 
For so the wheel goes round and round, 
And round, and will not stop. 

To-day my neighbor soareth high 

On fortune's favoring breeze ; 
His wants abundant streams supply, 

His life is one of ease ; 
His cup of pleasure and delight 

Seems sparkling to the brim ; 
The sun is on his path so bright 

That many envy him. 



134 Vagrant Verses. 

And yet the wheel goes round ; 

The wheel goes round and round ; 
And those who now are at ihe top 

Will soon be on the ground ; 
And those who at the bottom lie 

Will then be on the top ; 
For so the wheel goes round and round, 

And round, and will not stop. 

Some labor hard from day to day 

To till the stubborn soil, 
While some from morn till evening gray 

Reap rich reward for toil ; 
And those who in their early youth 

Escape much grief and care, 
May, when old age creeps on in truth. 
Life's heaviest burdens bear. 

The wheel goes round and round ; 

The wheel goes round and round; 
And those who now are at the top 

Will soon be on the ground ; 
And those who at the bottom lie 

Will then be at the top; 
For so the wheel goes round and round, 
And round, and will not stop. 



A Corner for You. 135 



A CORNER FOR YOU. 



(>ii 



T is not a sumptuous dwelling, 
W With plenty of room and to spare, 
With pictures and draperies telling 
That wealth is a resident there ; 
But only a small habitation; 

We're crowded for room, it is true. 
But come, dear, without hesitation, 
There's always a corner for you ! 

More ample are Geraldine's quarters. 

With furnishings costly and rare, 
And only one son and two daughters 

Her generous income to share ; 
Her rooms are more spacious than many ; 

Her household in numbers but few. 
And yet you will find there's not any 

Snug corner for me or for you. 

'Tis not with the proud and the wealthy 

Hospitable feelings are found ; 
More oft 'mid the poor will a healthy 

Good-fellowship seem to abound ; 
No matter how meager their table ; 

No matter how scanty their store. 
Somehow they are cheerfully able 

To crowd and make room for one more. 



136 Vagrant Verses. 

It matters not whether in ermine 

Or sackcloth the host may be drest, 
The size of his heart will determine 

The welcome he gives to a guest ; 
And though I may live in a shanty, 

As many unfortunates do — 
Though porridge and pasture be scanty 

There's always a corner for you ! 

Where many are narrow and sordid, 

What joy the frank-hearted do find ! 
What comfort and cheer are afforded 

By those to affection inclined ! 
Where love has a steadfast endurance, 

Is honestly faithful and true, 
The heart gives repeated assurance 

It has a warm corner for you ! 



THE PRICE OF A DRINK. 

In In 'jE^I^E cents a glass ! " Does any 
i X W^ one think 

That that is really the price of a 
drink ? 
" Five cents a glass ! " I hear you say ; 
" Why, that isn't very much to pay." 



The Price of a Drixk. 137 

Ah, no, indeed ; 'tis a very small sum 
You are passing over 'twixt finger and 

thumb; 
And if that were all that you gave away, 
It wouldn't be very much to pay. 

The price of a drink ? Let him decide 
Who has lost his courage and lost his pride, 
And lies a groveling heap of clay, 
Not far removed from a beast to-day. 
The price of a diink ? Let that one tell 
Who sleeps to-night in a murderer's cell, 
And feels within him the fires of hell. 
Honor and virtue, love and truth, 
All the glory and pride of youth, 
Hopes of manhood, the wreath of fame. 
High endeavor and noble aim — 
These are the treasures thrown away 
As the price of a drink, from day to day. 

*' Five cents a glass ! " How Satan laughed, 
As over the bar the young man quaffeil 
The beaded liquor ; for the demon knew 
The terrible work that drink would do ; 
And before the morning the victim lay 
With his life-blood swiftly ebbing away ; 
And that was the price he paid, alas ! 
For the pleasure of taking a social glass. 



138 Vagrant Verses. 

The price of a drink ! If you want to know 
What some are willing to pay for it, go 
Through that wretched tenement over there, 
With dingy windows and broken stair, 
Where foul disease, like a vampire, crawls 
With outstretched wings o'er the moldy 

walls. 
There Poverty dwells, with her hungry 

brood. 
Wild- eyed as demons for lack of food ; 
There Shame in a corner crouches low ; 
There violence deals its cruel blow ; 
And innocent ones are thus accursed 
To pay the price of another's thirst. 

" Five cents a glass ! " O, if that were all. 

The sacrifice would indeed be small ! 

But the money's worth is the least amount 

We pay ; and whoever will keep account, 

Will learn the terrible waste and blight 

That follow this ruinous appetite. 

"Five cents a glass!" Does any one 

think 
That that is really the price of a drink ? 



Some People We Know. 139 



SOME PEOPLE WE KNOW. 

y^b OME people we know — and they're nice 
^^^ people, too — 

Are so very precise in whatever they do, 
As straight as a rule, 
And so calm, and so cool, 
We feel in their presence as if we're at 
school. 



They are very strait-laced, have a calling to 

preach ; 
And as they are not very fluent in speech 
Much Scripture they quote — 
They have learned it by rote — 
And fancy an excellent cause they pro- 
mote. 

If they send us a letter, they'll wait per- 
haps years, 
Nor write us again till our answer appears ; 
And manage to let 
Us never forget 
That w^e have neglected to cancel our 
debt. 



140 Vagkant Veeses. 

They're so very formal, and make such a fuss 
Whenever they happen to call upon us, 
Are so ill at ease. 
We are ready to freeze 
In the atmosphere made by such people as 
these. 

If we do them a favor, or send them a gift, 
The obligation at once they will shift, 
By sending us more 
Than we sent from our store ; 
O, they're very punctilious indeed on that 
score ! 

*' An eye for an eye, and a tooth for a tooth," 
Is the maxim these good people live by, for- 
sooth ; 

A good rule, in fact, 
When a little bit slacked. 
For life is not sweet where the law's too exact. 

The people we love, and with whom we're 

at ease. 
Are cheerful, and .kindly, and not hard to 
please ; 

While others, austere, 
Can never get near 
Our hearts, though we meet them each day 
in the year. 



Say That You 'he Sobky. 141 



SAY THAT YOU'RE SORRY. 

WEE little child was in trouble and 

pain ; 
The tears down its cheeks running 
swiftly as rain ; 
When one came along who exclaimed, with 

a shout, 
" Why, what in the world are you crying 
about ? 

" Cut your finger ? Dear me, that is noth- 
ing at all ; 

You ought not to weep o'er a trial so small ; 

Be a man ; and whatever may happen 
amiss, 

O, never again be a baby like this." 

The appeal was in vain ; for the mourner 
bowed low, 

And still the big tear-drops continued to 
flow; 

And the little frame shook in a tempest of 
grief, 

For words such as these brought no sooth- 
ing relief. 



142 Vagkant Verses. 

" Now what can I do for you ? What can 

I say ? " 
Asked the elder, amazed at this childish 

display. 
" You hear me ? This minute get up from 

the floor ; 
You'll make yourself sick if you cry any 

more." 

The little one, lifting a woe-begone face 
On which the hot tears had left many a trace, 
With a sigh and a struggle for speech mur- 
mured he : 
"I think you might say you are sorry for 
me." 

A trial it is for the baby to miss 

The pitying word and the comforting kiss ; 

And, O, for the tears that rain over the 

face 
There's no balm so sure as a loving embrace. 

The sorrows of childhood are grievous to 

bear 
Without our fond pity, our comforting care, 
And when the hurts come, and the way's 

rather rough. 
We can say we are sorry — and that is 

enough. 




The Girls we Used to Know. 143 



THE GIRLS WE USED TO KNOW. 

^•VJ^T'HERE are the girls we used to know 
In the halcyon days of long ago ? 
The merry maids — the dancing 
elves — 
As happy as we were ourselves ? 
We miss their voices from the song ; 
We miss their faces from the throno:; 
We miss the sweetness and delight 
That used to make the world so bright. 

They took their part with pretty zest 
In song, or dance, or play, or jest ; 
And memory's waking touch can all 
Their faces and their ways recall. 
These damsels bright and debonaire, 
We meet upon each thoroughfare, 
Are more for fashion and for show 
Than were the girls we used to know. 

Yon matron, with the wrinkled face 
And withered form, devoid of grace. 
It cannot be that she is Sue, 
The merriest one of all the crew ! 



144 Vagrant Verses. 

And this one, dignified and stout, 
Living in affluence, no doubt, 
By not a single look betrays 
The Emily of former days. 

Margaret, Maria, Helen, Kate, 
And Jane Augusta, so sedate, 
Chloe and Sallie — all are changed; 
All, all are more or less estranged. 
And, as with heavy, aching hearts 
We vainly seek their counterparts, 
We sigh and wonder, as we go. 
Where are the girls we used to know ! 

But, gazing in the looking-glass. 

We see that we ourselves, alas ! 

Are greatly changed ; nor bear, in truth. 

The least resemblance to our youth. 

Our once brown locks are touched with gray, 

The rounded cheek has shrunk away. 

And there are other signs we wear 

To mark the touch of Time and Care. 

Still young at heart, our hearts rebel 
At what the years and dates may tell, 
And in sweet visions wander back 
Along the well-remembered track, 



The Girls we Used to Know. 145 

And cheat ourselves in the belief 
Thai none have ever come to grief, 
But boys and girls walk hand in hand 
As if in an enchanted land. 

Yet should we meet when in life's prime 
Some playmate of the olden time, 
What bitter memories would destroy 
The sweetness of our cup of joy ! 
And since to-morrow never gives 
True copies of those negatives 
We took in youth, we dream, and lo ! 
We're with the girls we used to know ! 



A WORRYING WOMAN. 

WORRYING woman will always, 

no doubt. 

Find something or other to worry 

about ; 

She worries at this, and she worries at that. 

And nobody knows what she's worrying at. 

If she sees a small cloud she will worry for fear 

A terrible cyclone is hovering near ; 

If she hears any noise in the night she's in 

dread, 
And fancies a burglar is under her bed. 

10 



146 Vagrant Verses. 

If the children are out she is on the alert 
To worry because they may chance to get 

hurt ; 
And if they're at home, and unusually still, 
She's sure to imagine they're dreadfully ill. 

If a window is open sli^'ll worry and scold 
Because she's in danger of getting a cold ; 
If the windows are closed then she can't get 

her breath. 
And worries for fear she'll be stifled to 

death. 

If she travels by boat she imagines the worst 
That can happen — is certain the boiler will 

burst ; 
And if by the cars she decides to come 

back, 
She is sure that the engine will run off the 

track. 

If there's work to be done she's in a great 

stew, 
For fear that the workmen will never get 

through ; 
And when they have finished and gone out 

of sight, 
She worries for fear they've not done the 

work right. 



A Worrying Woman. 147 

If she goes out to shop, she is worried for 

fear 
The goods she buys cheap will turn out to 

be dear ; 
And if little or much of her money is spent, 
She is never happy, and never content. 

She worries if she remains single too long; 
And if she is married she thinks she did 

wrong ; 
She worries if she is not treated just right ; 
And in this way she worries from morning 

till night. 

A worrying woman you never can please ; 
She's always unhappy, and never at ease; 
And with nothing to vex her, she'll woi-ry, 

no doubt. 
Because she has nothing to worry about ! 




"TOO DEEP FOR THAT." 

ES," said Farmer Brown, 
Bringing his hard fist down 
On the old oak table ; 
" They say that men can talk 
From Paris to New York, 

Througli a sunken cable ! 



148 Vagrant Verses. 

*' 'Tis perfectly absurd ; 

For to hear a siriorle word 
No man is able ; 

And it's clear enough to me 

That this Avide-spread mystery- 
Is a foolish fable. 

" The news we get from Rome 
Is all mnde up at home, 

'Tis my conviction ; 
And that, you see, will account 
For the terrible amount 

Of contradiction. 

" Yes," said Farmer Brown, 
Bringing his hard fist down 

On the old oak table; 
" My wife and I have tried 
The experiment ; we tied 

A good stout bit of cable 

" To the fence just over there. 
And the rocker of this chair ; 

And we couldn't do it. 
Though we screamed ourselves as hoarse 
As tree-toads ; but, of course, 

Not one word went through it ! 



*'Too Deep for That." 

" Don't talk to me, I pray, 
Of fresh news every day 

Through sunken cables ; 
Sea-yarns are always tough, 
And I have heard enough 

Of such old fables ! " 



149 




THE LAW AND THE LADY. 

H ! " cried the judge, a smile upon 

his face, 
As he reviewed the features of 
the case, 
In which the magistrate judicial saw 
Something to brighten up the court of law. 
" A lady is the plaintiff! I'll eng.'^e 
Tliat she shall make confession of her aire ! " 



By every art known to forensic lore 
He plied his questions, cross-examined, swore 
(Below his breath, of course); but all un- 
moved 
She parried every thrust, and fully proved. 
By many a covert scratch with sharpened 

claw, 
The lady had some knowledge of the law. 



150 Vagrant Verses. 

At last the judge, quite well assured that he 
Had met his match in wordy strategy, 
Yet curious to know — what men hold 

cheap — 
The only secret women ever keep. 
Exclaimed, " Now, madam, date of birth 

report. 
Or I'll commit you for contempt of court !" 

The lady looked upon the judge and smiled 
As gracefully and sweetly as a child. 
And with ablush ingenuous answered, "Sir, 
Not on ray own account do I demur ; 
But then you see, your honor, I'm a twin, 
To tell my sister's age would be a sin ! " 

The judge with stare of blank amazement, 

saw 
She did not fear the " terrors of the law," 
And doubtless had ere this from Scripture 

page 
Erased the mournful record of her a<re ; 
And so, with regulation frown, he hissed, 
"The case goes to the jury ! Court's dis- 
missed ! " 




A Commonplace Wooing. 151 

A COMMONPLACE WOOING. 

SHE was romantic, 
_ And ratlier pedantic, 
"^"^"^And full of historical lore, 
And fond of expressing 
Her views, and confessing 
Her love for the customs of yore. 

This billing and cooing, 

And commonplace wooing, 
Was not very much to her mind, 

And the troubadour fashion 

Of telling Love's passion 
Was far more discreet and refined. 

And she had a notion, 

A lover's devotion. 
His mistress as sovereign should crown ; 

And she would look queenly, 

And smile most serenely 
When he kissed— the hem of lier gown. 

Such chivalrous lover 

'Twas hard to discover 
Except in the volumes she read, 

And so the years found her 

With wise ones around her. 
But none came to avoo or to wed. 



152 VAGRA^xr Vekses. 

Books are well in their places, 

But a sight of dear faces 
With eyes lit with love for ourselves, 

Can give us more pleasure 

Than any rich treasure 
We find on the library shelves. 

For Emerson, Plato, 

And Virgil and Cato, 
Though worthy to know and admire. 

By any endeavor 

Can never — no, never — 
Be all that our hearts may desire. 

And when, in plain fashion. 

One whispered his passion, 
And asked her his future to bless. 

This erudite maiden, 

AYith blushes all laden, 
Was not at all loath to say " Yes." 

For billing and cooing, 

And commonplace wooing, 
Though not to her fancy, she said, 

(So skilled in black letter !) 

Were very much better 
Than being un wooed and unwed. 



An Every-day Girl. 15J 



AN EVERY-DAY GIRL. 

HE'S only an every-day girl, 

Without any semblance of art, 
This wide-awake sensible maid. 
To whom I have given my heart. 
She's womanly, gentle, and kind, 
The least little bit of a prude, 
"Whose dignity is a rebuke 

To those too familiar, or rude. 

She's honest and frank as the day. 

Has never been known to deceive, 
And every thing she may assert 

Is certainly safe to believe. 
Her beauty is not of the kind 

To set any lieart in a whirl, 
And light-headed friendships are not 

The choice of an every-day girl. 

Her taste in the matter of dress 

Is neither too showy nor grave, 
But such as will lead you to guess 

She is not to fashion a slave ; 
Yet many a one has turned round. 

On meeting her out in the street, 
To admire the every-day girl 

Who looked so remarkably sweet. 



154 Vagrant Verses. 

Her gifts and her graces are not 

Set out in attractive array 
To dazzle, or envy excite, 

Or ever for public display ; 
But sitting beside her alone, 

Or with a choice few, you will find 
How good and how great is her heart, 

How richly endowed is her mind. 

To her you may go in your grief, 

And freely your troubles rehearse ; 
On her in your sickness depend. 

For she is a capital nurse ; 
Whatever the strait you are in, 

Though others may give you no heed, 
You'll find that an every-day girl 

Will furnish the help that you need. 

She's patient, forbearing, and wise, 

Good-natured, kind-hearted, and true, 
And does with a resolute will 

The tasks that are set her to do. 
Ah, happy indeed is his lot. 

Without an occasion for strife. 
Who with such an every-day girl 

Can spend every day of his life ! 




The Touch of a Woman's Hand. 155 



THE TOUCH OF A WOMAN'S HAND. 

WAS a modest house in a humble 
street, 
Wliere poverty made its home, 
Where few of the belles and beaux we 
meet 
Were ever inclined to roam. 
That out of the dingy darkness glowed, 

Like a gem in an iron band. 
Because of one little room that showed 



The glass in the window shone bright and 
clear. 

And the curtains of woven lace 
Gave an aristocratic atmosphere 

To the very plebeian place ; 
And 'twas easy to see that the most was 
made 

Of the little wealth at command 
By these outward tokens, that well betrayed 

The touch of a woman's hand. 

And many a house seems full of gloom, 

A dark and desolate place. 
Because there's lacking from every room 

This mark of feminine grace ; 



156 Vagrant Verses. 

For there isn't a dwelling high or low, 
In the length and breadth of the land, 

That doesn't its sweet attractions owe 
To the touch of a woman's hand. . 

B it ah, not only to decorate 

And adorn the pilgrim's tent, 
Is woman endowed with a power so great, 

So strangely beneficent ; 
For even the little blossoms that grow 

And beautify all the land, 
Bloom sweetly for her, and appear to know 

The touch of a woman's hand. 

And when in sickness and sore distress, 

O'erwearied in heart and brain. 
How we long for the hand that was wont to 
bless 

And soothe every ache and pain ! 
The touch that was tender and soft and kind. 

The warm, compassionate palm. 
That gave new strength to the weakened 
mind. 

And furnished the healing balm ! 

And O, it is true that the tender touch. 

So ready its good to impart. 
With a speech of its own expressing much, 

Comes straight I'rom a tender heart ; 



The Touch of a Woman's Hand. 157 

And all humanity, high or low, 

In the length and breadth of the land. 

Can be lifted up, or debased, we know. 
By the touch of a woman's hand. 



'TWIXT GARRET AND CELLAR. 

^HERE'S many a dweller 

•^ 'Twixt garret and cellar 
Who knows very little, and cares less to 
know 

Of the troubles and trials, 

And daily denials, 
Of those who are dwelling above or below. 

Themselves on a level 

'Twixt angel and devil. 
They hold no communion, nor enter the door 

(With words kindly spoken. 

With cheering love token) 
Of those whose misfortune it is to be poor. 

They see not, they hear not, 

And so interfere not 
With troubles or sorrows in which they've 
no part ; 

Their province is bounded 

By Self, and surrounded 
With forests of timber Avithout any heart. 



158 Vageant Verses. 

Tliey sow not for others, 

Their sisters or brothers, 
Nor scatter a crumb i'rom their overstocked 
shelves ; 

And selfishly living. 

Are never forgiving 
To any but just their own miserly selves. 

They miss the sweet pleasure, 

The joy beyond measure, 
Of mounting the soul on its pinions of love 

With heavenly beauty 

To do angel's duty 
In the cellar below, or the garret above. 

Where huddled together 

In poverty's tether 
Are many worth saving from deeper distress : 

Poor, innocent creatures, 

With pallid, pinched features, 
The half of whose suff'rings no mortal can 
guess. 



THE MEMORY OF A WRONG. 

), the record said, 
•uel deed was done, 
That, like a legacy of hate, 
Was handed down from sire to son. 



JT^ONG years ago, 
^}Ll^ The cruel, cru 



The Memoey of a Wrong. 159 

Around the heart its iron grasp 

Was fastened ever, lirm and strong, 

And life's sweet cup embittered with 
The memory of that wrong. 

So often was the wound exposed, 

So often was the tale rehearsed. 
The acid had a sharper sting 

And burned more deeply than at first. 
And at the fireside appeared 

Revenge and Hate, with demon throng, 
To keep alive in every breast 

The- memory of that wrong. 

The man was dead who did that deed ; 

Ay, dead and buried years ago, 
Yet all his kindred were compelled 

To bear the heritage of woe ; 
It marked them with an ugly stain ; 

Vain all their eiforts to efface 
The record of ancestral crime 

That worked this deep disgrace. 

They dwelt afar in foreign lands; 
' They changed their name ; yet not a 

child 
Was born to them that did not know 
The reason they were thus exiled. 



160 Vagrant Verses. 

And ever was the burden borne 

By sire and son their whole life long ; 

And O ! what bitter tears were shed 
In memory of that wrong ! 

One day a lovely maiden met 

A youth as fair and good as she, 
And two hearts beat as one because 

Of some mysterious sympathy ; 
And neither knew, till Love had set 

Its seal upon their hearts so strong, 
That they should stand apart as foes, 

In memory of a wrong. 

But mightier than the voice of Hate, 

The voice of Love within them spoke. 
And in a moment — at a touch — 

The fetters of tradition broke. 
United in a bond of bliss 

They dwelt serenely ; and ere long 
No living heart was tortured by 

The memory of that wrong. 



WHAT AILED THE PUDDING? 

In In 'Xw^T'-^^'^ ^^^^^^ ^^ have for dinner, 
V^'' to-day?" 

Said Mrs. Dobbs, in her pleasant 
way; 



ft 



What Ailed the Pudding? 161 

" For Sally has much to do, and would wish 
That we'd get along with an easy dish — 
Something that wouldn't take long to pre- 
pare, 
Or really require much extra care." 
Said Mrs. Dohbs : " There isn't a doubt 
But what we'd all fancy a stirabout ! " 

" A hasty pudding ! Hurrah ! that's nice ! " 
Exclaimed the girls and boys in a trice. 
Then Sally put on the biggest pot, 
And soon the water was boiling hot. 
And Mrs. Dobbs mixed together some flour 
And water, and in less than an hour 
The pudding began to bubble up thick 
And dance about with the pudding-stick. 

Said Mr. Dobbs, as he made a halt, 
" Our Sully is apt to forget the salt ; 
So I'll put in a pinch ere I leave the house ; " 
And he went on tiptoe, as still as a mouse. 
And, dropping a handful in very quick. 
Stirred it well about with the pudding- 
stick. 
And said to himself, " Now, isn't this 

clever ! " 
At which the pudding laughed louder than 
ever. 
11 



162 Vagrant Verses. 

Then Mrs. Dobbs came after a while, 
And looked in the pot with a cheery smile, 
And thought how much she'd enjoy the 

treat, 
And how much the children would want to 

eat; 
Then said, *' Our Sally has one great fault — 
She is very apt to forget the salt ! " 
And into the hasty pudding was sent 
A handful of this ingredient. 

John, George, and Jennie, and Bess, in 

turn. 
Gave the stick a twist, lest the pudding 

burn ; 
For O ! how empty and wretched they'd 

feel 
If any thing ruined their noonday meal ! 
And each in turn began to reflect. 
And make amends for Sally's neglect, 
For the girl was good, but she had one 

fault — 
She was very apt to forget the salt ! 

But Sally, herself, it is strange to say. 
Was not remiss in her usual way ; 
But before she went to her upstairs work 
She threw in a handful of salt with a jerk, 



What Ailed the Pudding? 1G3 

And stirred the pudding, and stirred the fire, 
Which made the bubbles leap higher and 

higher, 
And as soon as the clock struck twelve she 

took 
The great big pot off the great big hook. 

It wasn't scorched ! Ah ! that was nice ! 

And one little dish would not suffice 

Mr. or Mrs. Dobbs, I guess, 

John, or George, or Jennie, or Bess ; 

And as for Sally, I couldn't say 

How much of the pudding she'd stow away. 

For she was tired atid hungry, no doubt, 

And very fond of this stirabout. 

A happier group you'd ne'er be able 

To find than sat at the Dobbs's table, 

With plates and spoons, and a hungry wish 

To eat their fill of the central dish. 

But as Mr. Dobbs began to taste 

The pudding, he dropped his spoon in haste ; 

And all of the children did likewise. 

As big as saucers their staring eyes. 

Said Mrs. Dobbs, in a voice not sweet : 
" Why, it isn't fit for the pigs to eat ! " 
And I doubt if an artist would e'er be able 
To depict their looks as they left the table. 



164 Vagrant Verses. 

Said Sally : " I thought it would be so nice ! 
J3ut I must have salted that pudding twice ! " 
And none of the family mentioned that they 
Had a liand in spoiling the dinner that d;iy. 



A WORD OF CHEER. 

tWORD of clieer 
From a heart sincere, 
And the clasp of a friendly hand, 

Will comfort more 

Than a golden store, 
As we walk through this pilgrim land. 

The thirsty lip 

All in vain may sip 
From the gleaming goblets near ; 

Nor find the calm, 

Nor the cordial balm. 
Expressed in a word of cheer. 

When bending low. 

With a weight of woe. 
When troubles like clouds descend, 

What then more dear 

Than a word of cheer 
From a loving and faithful friend ! 

The sunshine warm 

Soon dispels the storm, 



A Word of Cheer. 165 

The mists and gloom disappear, 

And the fainting soul 

Is again made whole 
And strong, by a word of cheer. 

There are hearts that ache, 

There are hearts that break. 
Despite the wealth they possess, 

For Ia(^k of the woi-d 

That we have deferred 
To comfort their loneliness. 

O, sweetest of alms ! 

Most blessed of balms ! 
Whatever our station here, 

There are times we feel 

That nothing can heal 
Our wounds like a word of cheer. 



A QUIET FRIEND. 

/Jv\^ THERE are days that are given to 
vlry srladness, 

To merry-making and wholesome 
cheer. 
When the heart runs out of the reach of 
sadness. 
And close to the jovial crowd draws near ; 



166 Vagrant Verses. 

When song and laughter are wreathed to- 
gether, 

A garland to bind on the brow of Time, 
And, whatever may be the out-door weather. 

We breathe the airs of a sunny clime. 

And there are times when we loathe the 
splendor 

Of gay carousals in Fashion's courts, 
And shun the youths and the maids who 
attend her, 

Nor take delight in their joyous sports ; 
When we tire of smiling and careless faces, 

And long devoutly our steps to w^end 
Away from them all to secluded places. 

Our sole companion a quiet friend. 

Yes, there are seasons for mirth and laugh- 
ter ; 

But wounded hearts find a soothing balm 
In the hush and the rest that follow after 

These storms of joy, with a peaceful 
calm. 
And, O ! 'tis sweet, after all the riot. 

To sit in silence with folded hands 
Beside a friend never dull, though quiet. 

Who sympathizes and understands. 



A Quiet Friend. 167 

A quiet friend ! Ah ! we cannot measure 

The power to comfort, console, and bless 
That lies in the power of such a treasure, 

Which we are happy if we possess. 
And oft from the heart that is sad and 
lonely, 

Shrouded in gloom, will the prayer ascend. 
That Heaven, kind Heaven, will grant it 
only— 

This one rare blessing — a quiet friend. 



KEEP THEM YOUNG. 

KEEP the little ones young, my 
s^S^ dear, 

Don't let them grow old too fast; 
For short is the season of youth, my dear. 

And soon are its pleasures past ; 
O, speak to them ever in love, my dear, 

And smile at their childish ways ; 
For we have been young ourselves, my 
dear. 
And we've had our foolish days. 

That dear little fellow, so full of pranks. 
Will soon be a man, you know ; 

And if he is set in a kindly soil. 

In goodness and strength he'll grow. 



163 Vagrant Verses. 

Have patience, my dear, with his tricksome 
ways, 
And don't throw a cloud on his joy ; 
For you know there are many years for the 
man, 
But precious few for the boy ! 

And that sweet little girl ! — have a care, 
my dear, 

That you turn not the vine astray, 
That will blossom and cheer us all our lives. 

If we train it in wisdom's way. 
The children grow out of our clinging arms ; 

But the lullabies we have sung 
Will ring in their ears when our lips are 
cold. 

And keep their hearts fresh and young. 

O, keep the little ones young, my dear. 

Don't let them grow old too fast ; 
For short is the season of youth, my dear, 

And soon are its pleasures past. 
Don't hurry them into the care and strife. 

And out of the dear home nest; 
But let them be children as long as they 
can. 

For the time is not long at the best. 



The Good Things of Life. 1G9 



THE GOOD THINGS OF LIFE. 

tHE good things of life are not hard to 
obtain, 
If early we follow directions, 
And carefully train both the heart and the 
brain 
On good things to fix their affections. 
Good books we can find. 
If we have but the mind 
And taste, and the good sense to choose 
them ; 

Good company they, 

Any hour of the day. 

To those who delight to peruse them. 

The good things of life it were folly to seek 

Among the corrupt and the vicious. 
The hue of whose cheek and whose lan- 
guage bespeak 
Indulgences low and pernicious. 
Good friends we secure. 
The true-hearted and pure, 
Where virtur'e betrays no abusing ; 
And so much depends 
On our intimate friends, 
We can't be too careful in choosing. 



170 Vagrant Verses. 

The good things of life the Creator com- 
mends 
In ways that we miss through our blind- 
ness; 
Good books, and good friends, and good 
wives Heaven sends 
To those who will treat them with kind- 
ness. 

And if we admire 
Good things, and desire 
To add to the store we are using. 
We must cast in our lot 
With the good, and be not 
Too hasty or careless in choosing. 



AN ANSWERED PRAYER. 

^HE snow lay white on the window-sill, 
L)^The wintry breezes blew damp and 
chill, 

The hearth-fires gleamed with a ruddy light, 
And few were abroad on the streets tliat 

night. 
A mother sat by the cheerful blaze 
Sadly thinking of other days. 
Of the spring of life and its dreams of joy. 
But most of all of her absent boy. 



An Answered Prayer. 171 

He was driven away by an angry sire 

In a moment of wrath when words struck 

fire, 
And for years had dwelt from his home 

apart, 
Though never outside of his mother's heart. 
Slowly and sadly the years had sped, 
And the neighbors whispered, " The boy is 

dead ! " 
But the mother smiled, for a clew she had 
To the whereabouts of her sailor lad. 



He had not written. No, never a word 
Of the wandering one had she ever heard, 
But the mother-love had detained him near. 
And in fancy she pictured his whole career 
Since with firm-set lip he forsook his home, 
A \Yanderer over the world to roam ; 
And she knew that her prayers, like an end- 
less chain, 
AVould bring him back to her side again. 

Still the years went by, and the old man's 

face 
Of pride and anger lost every trace. 
And around his mouth and his eyes were set 
The lines of hopeless and deep regret ; 



1T2 Vagrant Verses. 

While tears of sorrow had dimmed the 
light 

Of the mother's eyes, that were once so 
bright, 

And her cheek had lost its color, until 

'Twas as white as the snow on the window- 
sill. 

Before the blaze of the warm lire-light 
They sat and talked, on this wintry night, 
Of stocks, and crops, and events of the 

day— 
Of every thing else but that which lay 
Close to their hearts, like a toucli of flame. 
Branding more deeply the loved one's name. 
When all of a sudden the old man said, ' 
"Do you really think, Hannah, our boy is 

dead ! " 

" No ! no ! " she shrieked, with her hands in 

air. 
While her heart was lifted in earnest 

prayer. 
And her face reflected celestial liglit — 
" He is thinking of us, I know, to-night ! " 
The blast blew open the outer door. 
The snow-flakes drifted along the floor ; 
But they heeded not, as they wept their tears, 
Nearer in heart than they'd ])een for years. 



An Answered Pkayer. 1V3 

Unlieard was the sound of a manly tread, 
Unfelt the presence till some one said, 
<' Father ! Mother ! " in tones that fetched 
Both to their feet, with arms outstretched. 
Wet were tlie smiles that revealed the joy 
Of the mother who welcomed her darling 

boy ; 
While the old man said, with a reverent 

air, 
" Thank God ! thank God for this answered 

prayer ! " 



A LITTLE BIT OF PRAISE. 

EY Uncle David was a man 
So proper and so nice. 
We always used to go to him 
When needing good advice ; 
He knew the rules of etiquette. 

And all the points of law. 
And in each finished piece of work 
Was sure to note a flaw. 

Severely simple were his tastes. 

Yet no one could deny 
That in his view of men and things 

He used a critic's eye. 



174 Vagkant Veeses. 

And O ! the look of stern reproof 
Our worthy kinsman gave, 

If any little rascal dared 
To call him Uncle Dave ! 

As digniHed as any don, 

He held himself aloof 
From all the merry games and sports 

That shook the household roof ; 
In manners we were so uncouth 

And rude — it was a shame 
There was so little to commend, 

So very much to blame ! 

To Uncle Ben, who was, in truth, 

A simple-hearted man, 
With all our little woes and griefs, 

And greater ones, we ran ; 
He seemed to understand the case, 

Though blunderingly told, 
And often kissed the very one 

We thought he ought to scold. 

And babies always used to act 
Their very worst, and cry, 

When Uncle David was around — 
I need not tL41 you why ; 



A Little Bit of Pkaise. 175 

And these same little ones would laugh, 
Stretch out their arms and crow, 

Whenever Uncle Ben apjjeared, 
Because they loved him so. 

The one was wise in books, and all 

The knowledge they impart ; 
The other understood the need 

Of every human heart, 
And wisely did his best to smooth 

Life's crooked, tangled ways. 
By giving, eveiy now and then, 

A little bit of praise. 

A little bit of praise will do 

A world of good, you'll find ; 
'Tis strength and courage to the heart, 

'Tis medicine to the mind ; 
And oft has welcome sunshine lent 

A brightness to our days. 
Because of one who kindly spoke 

A pleasant word of praise. 



-^(UAs^y^ 



ONE DAY OF GLADNESS. 
I^NE day of gladness makes amends 
For all the ills misfortune sends. 
As one full leaved and perfect flower 
Rewards us for each anxious hour. 



176 Vagrant Verses. 

E'en as the sunshine floods the plain, 
And dries all traces of the rain, 
So joy upon our path appears, 
And leaves no vestiges of tears. 

Though sorrow to our side may slip, 
And give us close companionship, 
While round about deep shadows fall. 
One day of gladness brightens all. 

With cheerful glow it reaches far 
Beyond the light of moon or star, 
Shining long after day is done, 
Brightly as Norway's midnight sun. 

Though we with favored ones abide 
Serenely on life's sunny side, 
One day more beautiful and blest 
Exceeds in splendor all the rest. 

Or when the past is in review. 
And cares seem many, comforts few, 
How are the troubles that annoy 
Extinguished by a gleam of joy ! 

For all the sorrows of this life. 
For all the suffering and strife. 
In bliss that earthly bliss transcends, 
The glad hereafter makes amends ! 




The Face of a Fkiend. 177 



THE FACE OF A FRIEND. 

LONE in the city, surrounded by 

strangers, 
And jostled about by an elbowing 
throng, 
With nobody near us to comfort and cheer 
us 
As sadly and slowly we journey along — 
lluw lonely the heart, and how eager the 
glances, 
As hither and thither our footsteps w^e 
wend. 
Betraying so plainly that vainly, still 
vainly, 
We search through the crowd for the face 
of a friend ! 



The place seems a desert, though windows 
are gleaming 
With colors that vie with the rainbow in 
hue, 
Though ribbons and laces, and hosts of 
bright faces, 
In holiday splendor, are out on review. 



178 Vagrant Verses. 

Though the wealth of the Indies be poured 
in our coffers, 
Though plenty of silver and gold we may 
spend, 
These cheer not our sadness, nor waken the 
gladness 
We feel at beholding the face of a friend. 

The face of a friend ! How it shines through 
the darkness 
That often assails us! How preciously near 
It seems, when the trial of long, long denial 
Has made the sweet blessing unspeakably 
dear ! 
The heart is consoled, and is lonely no 
longer, 
Its terrors and tremors are all at an end. 
And the way that was dreary becomes 
bright and cheery. 
Illumined at once by the face of a friend. 



AN ANGEL'S TOUCH. 

LITTLE maid, whose looks betrayed 

A sorrow far too deep for tears. 
Stepped in the store ('twas known she 
bore 
A burden weighty for her years), 



An Angel's Touch. 179 

And, with the nickel in her hand, 
She lingered till the clerk was free 

To wait upon her. She had come 
To purchase five cents' worth of tea. 

Men stood not far off, by the bar. 

In haste the whisky-fire to quaff, 
The glasses clinking as they drink, 

As if it were the demons' laugh. 
They turned away the score to pay, 

When one among them chanced to find 
The little maid asleep; her head 

Against a barrel near inclined. 

E'en while she slept, the coin she kept 

Still tightly guarded— precious store !— 
That was to buy a small supply 

Of tea — when food was needed more. 
Her story sad the grocer's lad 

Told to the men who stood an ear, 
And one ashamed, straightway exclaimed, 

" Say, drunkards, all of you, look here ! 

" We drink our fill of whisky, till 
Our money's gone, our senses fled, 

While this one here (he brushed a tear) 
Is suffering for want of bread ! 



ISO Vagrant Verses. 

I'm not bereft of feeling yet, 

Thank God ! " he added, as he took, 

With generous impulse, nn amount 
Of money from his pocket-book. 

"I'll give my share! " another there 

Exclaimed, who would not be outdone; 
" And I ! "— " And I ! " till by and by 

Five dollars were in this way won. 
Then from her hand one of the band 

The nickel took — preserved with care — 
And in its place, with tender grace. 

Left the much larger treasure there. 

The little child then sweetly smiled : 

*' The gal's a dreamin', boys, no doubt ! " 
The spokesman said. With gentle tread, 

He and his comrades then went out. 
The clerk awoke the child, who spoke 

With ringing laugh — all free from care ; 
" O ! ma," said she, " wasn't sick, and we 

Had lots to eat and lots to wear ! 

" It didn't seem to be a dream. 
It was so real ! I can't forget 

An angel stood there bright and good. 
And touched my hand ; it burns me yet ! " 



An Angel's Touch. 181 

With startled gaze, all in amaze, 
She sees the bill within her hand ; 

And how the change so wondrous strange 
Was wrought she fails to understand. 

Her arms heaped high with good suj^ply 

Of precious things, she gladly bore. 
She said, '' Ma'll hardly think it true, 

An angel clerked it in your store ! " 
What joy, if they who on that day 

Performed, an angel's part so well, 
Shunned, ere too late, the drunkard's fate, 

And saved their souls from deepest hell ! 



SAVED BY A KISS. 

In Ir 2Ti{ ^-^^ saved by a kiss ! " said the 
1 1 All stalwart youth, 

Whose face reflected the light of 
truth. 
His cultured speech and his soft address 
Betokening inner nobleness. 
" Saved by a kiss ? " said his comrades near, 
" Tell us about it ! we'd like to hear ! " 
So he told his story, and those who heard 
Repeated it afterward — word for word : 



182 Vagrant Verses. 

" We were playing together — a ragged 

crew — 
Dirty, and homeless, and friendless, too. 
With none to love us, and none who cared — 
But the God above us — how hard we fared. 
Kicked and cuffed in a brutal way. 
And driven about from day to day. 
What chance was there for a boy to climb 
Out of that region of filth and crime ? 

" O, we were a rascally, roguish set ! 
The greatest ' terrors ' you ever met ; 
Ready to steal, and ready to lie. 
Ready the laws of the land to defy ; 
Ready to go on a ' spree ' or a ' lark,' 
From early morning till after dark ; 
Trained to crime from the very first. 
Of these dare-devils I was the worst. 

" Ah, well ; it happened one summer day 
As we were having a noisy play, 
Cursing and swearing each breath we drew 
To make us more like the men we knew. 
That one in our midst like an angel stood — 
'Twas easy to see she was sweet and good — 
And she spoke so kindly, I stopped my 

play 
For a moment to hear what she had to say. 



Saved by a Kiss. 183 

" I raised my eyes to her face, and met 

A look of pity — of sad regret — 

And something that thrilled me through 

and through ; 
And before I guessed what she meant to do, 
The lady bent with the sweetest grace 
And gave me a kiss on my dirty face, 
Which made me tremble with glad surprise, 
And made the tears gush out of my eyes. 

*' That kiss decided me to besin 
To raise myself from the sloughs of sin ; 
To be a man in the truest sense. 
Without parade and without pretense ; 
And whatever I am to-day I owe 
To one who for Christ's sake stooped so low, 
And made the ancjels in heaven o-Jad 
With the kiss that she gave to a friendless 
lad." 



TYING THE KNOT. 

HIS is a true lover's knot^^ he said. 
As he twisted over a bit of thread, 
And carefully drawing the ends 
out straight. 
Presented the form of the figure eight. 




184 Vagrant Verses. 

" It is, my darling, a double noose, 
Pretty to look at if left quite loose, 
But two hearts closely we may unite 
By pulling the ends of the cords up tight. 

" This is a hoidine hnot^'' quoth he. 

To the merry maiden upon his knee; 

" And terrible things on the mighty ship 

Would happen, you know, if this knot should 

slip : 
In dropping the anchor, in hoisting sail. 
In making safe from the fearful gale ; 
And the bowline knot you will understand 
Should never be made by a careless hand. 

*' And this is a iceaver's knot, my dear — 
An intricate puzzle to you, I fear ; 
But you'll find you'll often have use for it 
When the children's stockings you learn to 

knit. 
O, what confusion and loss beside, 
If a knot in the warp were left untied ! 
Hither and yon would the stitches run. 
And the weaver's weaving be soon undone. 

" In tying a knot, if you tie it wrong 
You can't depend on it very long ; 
But if made as it ought to be, firm and fast, 
'Twill hold and tighten, and always last. 



Tying the Knot. 185 

Now which of these knots do you like the 
best?" 

Said he; and the maiden whom he ad- 
dressed 

Like a woman answered, and queried, too : 

" I like the true lover's knot. Don't you ? " 



POOR WIDOW GRAY. 

"^ " OOR Widow Gray ! She was always in 
trouble ; 
If you called at her house any hour of 
the day, 
You'd find her in tears, and bent over quite 
double. 
Lamenting the burdens that stood in her 
way. 

There was plenty to do, and but little to do 
with ; 
And patching and mending were not to 
her taste ; 
And a nice little income her children ran 
through with, 
Their time and their talents encouraged 
to waste. 



186 Vagrant Verses. 

She never had trained them to be neat or 
handy, 
Or to wait on themselves if a servant was 
near ; 
And it pleased her to see Jack so much of 
a dandy, 
And she wished she could give him a 
thousand a year. 

And as for beautiful ladylike Alice, 

Her indolent ways and her dignified mien 

Would surely befit her to dwell in a palace. 
And reign with much grace a society queen. 

Economy, prudence, were words that she 

hated ; 

She also despised their Scotch relative, 

Thrift ; 

And building up air-castles, dreamily waited 

For long-delayed Fortune to give her a lift. 

Her clothes were untidy ; her house was 
neglected ; 
The wolf at the door lingered early and 
late; 
While the Widow Gray sat in a corner, de- 
jected. 
With tears and lamentings bemoaning 
her fate. 



Poor Wjdow Grat. 187 

How different this from her life as she 
planned it ; 
Each day her misfortunes had changed 
for the worse. 
How cruel was fate ! She could not under- 
stand it ; 
And so kept her spirits as low as her 
purse. 



Ah, poor Widow Gray ! it is true the world 
over, 
That those who indulge in extravagant 
ways 
Are seldom, if ever, found living in clover. 
But always are poor to the end of their 
days! 



IN SEARCH OF A FLAT. 

Irln ISW^Z^ must move," said the dear lit- 
1 1 ^\^ tie wife, with a sigh 

That rose from the depths of 
her heart ; 
"I've been so contented and happy that I 
Am really quite loth to do]iart. 



188 Yagea^nt Verses. 

" But still, it is better, if Ben will persist 
In wasting his time in this way, 

By staying out late with a party at whist. 
And having a headache next day. 

" He promised to love me, and care for me, 
too. 

And sweeten the journey of life ; 
But O, of the future how little I knew 

When taking the vows of a wife ! 

" The love and the care have been mine, I 
confess. 

And Ben has no cause to complain. 
For he never is conscious but what a caress 

Is a remedy sure for all pain. 

" He doesn't do right ; and he seems to have 
lost 
The meaning of pride and of shamo, 
And swears — O ! so hard — when his vvislies 
are crossed : 
I wonder if I am to blame ? " 

O, bitter, indeed, were the tears that slie 
shed ! 

How painfully tender the smart ! 
Far better to mourn for a love that is dead 

Than to live with its thorn in the heart! 



In Seaech of a Flat. ]89 

" The neighbors are kind, but they notice, 
I'm sure, 
Ben's ways — and 'tis better, I know," 
Said the brave little woman, "since there is 
no cure, 
That we among strangers should go. 

"My fortune he's spending as if 'twere his 
own. 
But I would give all I possess, 
And work these poor fingers of mine to the 
bone. 
If Ben would love liquor the less ! 

"I've seen a nice flat — though 'tis up rather 
high— 

And if I am lonely, what then ? 
Perhaps of starvation and grief I may die, 

And who'll then look after poor Ben ? " 



We frequently spoke of the life that she 
led. 
Of her womanly pride, and all that ; 
And she needn't have taken the trouble, we 
said. 
To go out in search of 2, flat. 



190 Vagrant Verses. 



t 



A STATELY DAME. 

HERE'S a stately dame— I'll not tell 
7^y\ her name — 

Who holds herself with a lofty pride, 
So vain is she of her pedigree, 

For to Lord Hightariff she's close allied. 
When she moves her hand to give a com- 
mand, 
To greet her friend or to bid adieu, 
'Tis with such an air as a queen might wear 
When she condescended to notice you. 

From early to late she sits in state, 

And, uninvited, none dare encroach 
On the small domain where she loves to 
reign. 

Or near her presence in haste approach. 
The children run from her side, and shun 

Her formal favors, though liking much 
Her apparel fine and her jewels' shine. 

Which they early learn that they must 
not touch. 

She presides with skill, as such women will. 
At district meetings, charity fairs, 

And ladies' clubs — where her haughty snubs 
Seem quite a part of the rank she bears. 



A Stately Dame. 191 

A laugh or a smile is not her style, 

But with dignity she performs her part ; 

And, though strong in mind, 'twould be 
hard to find 
Another woman who had less heart. 

No babe to her breast is ever press'd ; 

Nor does she soothe in a tender tone 
The sick and worn, or the souls that mourn 

O'er the many trials and griefs they've 
known. 
O, cold-blooded queen of imperial mien ! 

I envy you neither your wealth nor fame, 
And rejoice each day that you ]iass my way 

That my mother was not such a stately 
dame. 



THE RIGHT OF WAY. 

fHAT Lawyer Gilbert was grim and 
^ gruff 

All at Nookhaven knew well enough ; 
And none dare trespass on his domains 
So much as to stroll through the quiet lanes 
Or woods adjoining his farm, for there 
Were the warning placards — No Thorough- 
fare. 



192 Vagrant Verses. 

The dwelling where Doctor White abode 
Was half a mile distant around the road, 
But only a stone's throw, so it seemed 
When the lights in the white house win- 
dows gleamed, 
From Lawyer Gilbert's ; and many a time 
Had one been tempted the fence to climb. 

Here is a fence ; and there you pass 
A field of corn and some meadow grass, 
A grove of trees, and a little rise 
Beyond which the doctor's dwelling lies ; 
Another fence, and a few steps more 
Will land you right at the doctor's door. 

And oft when the wintry winds blew shrill. 
And, because of a dear one lying ill, 
There was need of haste, has an anxious 

soul, 
With breath well spent ere he reached the 

goal, 
Wished that a generous heart had planned 
A " short cut " over the lawyer's land. 

Now it chanced that the doctor's son had 

met 
The lawyer's daughter — his precious pet — • 



The Bight of Way. 193 

So girt about with parental law 
That few of the villagers ever saw 
The lovely girl ; for the lawyer grim 
Fenced in whatever belonged to him. 

There were stolen meetings ; in lane and 

grove 
Were voices whispering words of love ; 
For, in spite of the law, tlie doctor's son 
The heart of the pretty maid had won ; 
And, while the lawyer had held the fort. 
The lover had brouglit the case to court. 

Ah ! who would journey for half a mile 
When they have only to cross a stile 
To shorten the distance ? Cowards may, 
But Love has ever the right of way. 
And into a path the grass has worn 
Between the fence and field of corn. 



And, lo and behold ! in the course of time 
The barriers none had been free to climb 
Were leveled to make a thoroughfare 
From the main road here to the main road 

there, 
And over the lawyer's land to-day 
Everv body has right of way. 

i.3 



t 

194 Vagrant Verses. 



SET THE DOOR AJAR. 



ET the door ajar, wife, 

For our bairn is coming, 
O'er the barren hill-side, 
Through the dreary wold ; 
Long she's been away from us, 
Longer she'll not stay from us ; 
She is coming back again : back to the fold! 

'Twas a summer day, wife, 
When our darling left us ; 
Darkness fell upon us 
When she turned away ; 
Cheerless has our fireside 
Been without its joy and pride ; 
Wintry has our life been since that summer 
day. 

May be we were wrong, wife ; 
Youth must have its folly ; 
We were harsh and cruel ; 
Had we been more kind, 
We mia-ht ne'er have had to rue 
Guilt we never can undo ; 
Wc have clearer vision now ; then \vc were 
blind. 



Set the Door Ajar. ]95 

Something tells my heart, wife, 

That our bairn is coming 

From her weary wanderings 

In a land afar ; 
Coming to us tearfully ; 
Let us greet her cheerfully, 
Light the candles early ; set the door ajar. 

I can almost hear, wife, 

The tumultuous beating 

Of her heart whose aching 

I can surely know ; 
There are voices strange about. 
Calling me away, no doubt ; 
I must see my darling child before I go ! 

She may come to-night, wife. 
Do not close the shutters. 
On our hearts there must not 
Be a bolt or bar ; 
From her home we've driven her 
But that we've forgiven her 
She will know when she returns and finds 
the door ajar ! 



196 Vagkant Vejrses. 



THE LITTLE ONES AT PLAY. 

IIATEVER comes to cloud our 
path, 



J 



Whatever dulls the day, 
We get good cheer when we draw near 

The little ones at play ; 
And if we enter in their inirth 

Antl help their games along, 
We please the elves, and keep ourselves 

In tune with laugh and song. 

The gloomy man will sit alone 

To brood upon his woes. 
And from his grief Und no relief. 

No respite, or repose ; 
The careful housewife from his lair 

The children keep away, 
If it be found he hates the sound 

Of little ones at play. 

Their mirth would drive away his grief, 
Their laugh assuage his pain ; 

To join their ranks, their merry pranks, 
Would make him young again. 



The Little Ones at Play. 197 

And lie is but a dismal churl 

Who, sick or well, will shun 
The house or street where children meet 

For frolic and for fun. 

I mind me of a cheerful house 

In days of long ago. 
Where children played and music made, 

The sweetest that I know ; 
Up with the lark from dawn till dark, 

Now indoors and now out, 
The girls and boys with gladsome noise 

Kept up their merry rout. 

But now the house is still enough ; 

Too still, alas ! for me ; 
There are no songs or shouts from throngs 

Of children mad with glee ; 
No merry noise of girls and boys 

To drive dull care away, 
Nor any sound the homestead round 

Of little ones at play. 

Ah, soon enough the changes come 
That quench the light and mirth 

That have their spring, their blossoming. 
Around the fireside hearth ; 



198 Vageant Verses. 

And, O ! it brings good cheer to us, 
And keeps our spirits gay. 

When we can see with heartfelt glee 
The little ones at play. 



LOVE IS BETTER THAN SILVER AND GOLD. 

fHE briojht waves danced at the maid- 
en's feet. 

The air was heavy with odors sweet. 
And the joyous breezes their music played 
To the trees and blossoms on dress parade. 
"Heigho !" sighed the pretty maid, caring 

naught 
For the beauty with which the scene was 

fraught, 
And thinking only how sad her lot, 
To be enchained to this lowly spot : 
" Heigho ! heigho ! what pleasures untold 
Were mine had I plenty of silver and gold ! " 

Silvery flashes in streamlet's bed, 
Golden gleams in the sky o'erhead, 
Bring no joy to the soul possessed 
With the sordid feeling that gold is best. 
Men or maidens — 'tis all the same — 
All are hunting the precious game ; 



Better than Silver and Gold. 199 

And youth and beauty are made the hire 
The prize so coveted to secure ; 
And alas ! alackaday ! hearts are sold 
Far too often for silver and gold. 

Scarce had ended the maiden's sigh 
When a wealthy suitor came riding by, 
Saw at a glance the maiden's charms, 
And longed to carry her in his arms 
Away to his home, where he'd provide 
All that was worthy so fair a bride ; 
And it mattered little to him, I wage. 
That he was three or four times her age; 
And she was easy to be cajoled 
With a mixture of honey, silver, and gold. 

They left together the country road 
And the rustic cottage where she abode, 
And never a backward glance she sent 
To the home where her early days were 

spent ; 
And if ever a single thought she gave 
To those who lingered to skimp and save, 
'Twas only over her lot to rejoice ; 
Silver and gold was the wisest choice. 
Of all the treasures in earthly hold. 
What could be better than silver and gold ? 



200 Vagrant Verses. 

" Silver and gold ! Silver and gold ! " 
Said the wheels of the carriage as on they 

rolled ; 
While the heart of the maiden was held in 

thrall 
'Neath the folds of a costly India shawl. 
" When lovers are poor," she had coldly 

said, 
" 'Tis the height of folly for them to wed! " 
And she rode away on her wedding-day. 
Nor heard the voices that seemed to say : 
" Silver and gold you may have and hold. 
But love is better a thousand-fold ! " 

But by and by — ah ! yes, by and by, 
Silver and gold would not satisfy 
The heart that woke with a sonse of pain 
To its mighty loss, and its paltry gain ; 
And she who had bartered all she pos- 
sessed. 
With tears and travail of soul confessed. 
As she gazed on splendors she once had 

prized. 
As she thought of pleasures she once de- 
spised : 
** Than all the glitter of silver and gold, 
Love is better a thousand-fold ! " 



The Heart of a Rose. 201 



THE HEART OF A ROSE. 

HE held in her hand a rich red rose ; 

No 8weeter was there in any bower ; 
Nor could maidenly blushes rival those 
That burned in the depths of the lovely 
flower. 
Her fingers toyed with the leaves so red, 

And as slowly the bud began to unclose, 
In a tender whisper the maiden said : 

" How sweet — how sweet is the heart of 



a rose 



?» 



She thought of blossoms that used to blow, 

In a pretty garden with treasures laden. 
Where pink, and crimson, and white as 
snow 

Were the roses plucked by a youthful 
maiden ; 
" But of all the flowers that ever grew 

In those lovely bowers of long ago," 
She murmured softly, " I never knew 

One half so sweet as the Jacqueminot ! " 

A voice beside her the silence broke, 

And into her cheek the hot blood ruslies. 

And she turned her head as her lover spoke 
To hide from his gaze the tell-tale blushes. 



202 Vagrant Verses. 

" I envy Jacque ! " said the artful youth, 
As the blossom rested against her lips, 

And stained, with its crimson glow, in truth. 
Her cheek and her slender finger-tips. 

" Sweet Rose ! " he sighed — and his glance 
betrayed 
Which one the youth was apostropliiz- 
ing— 
" That you should be loved by man or maid 

Is not to me in the least surprising ! " 
And then and there, in impassioned speech, 

To tell the story of love he chose, 
And he said : " My darling, I do beseech 
That you will give me the heart of a 
Rose ! 

"You owned that you loved a Jacquemi- 
not » 

(Of both the roses he took possession), 
" And if that, my darling, is really so. 

Let me have from your lips the sweet 
confession." 
Ah, rich and red was the lovely hue 

That dyed her cheeks, as the maiden bent 
To kiss her lover ! and then he knew 

That he was really the Jack she meant ! 




We Cannot be Happy Alone. 203 
WE CANNOT BE HAPPY ALONE. 

"Joy flies monopolists; it calls for two." — Young. 

iv^T"^ may sorrow alone, and in silence 
Endure the deep anguish and pain ; 
We may hide every wound from our 
dear ones, 
And ne'er in their presence complain ; 
But when on our part joy arises. 

And skies that were clouded grow bright, 
We hasten to tell the good tidings 
To those who will share our delight. 

For years we may bear the sad burden 

111 fortune has harshly imposed ; 
May wear out our lives, and the secret 

We guarded remain undisclosed ; 
But when from the grave where we lan- 
guish 

An angel displaces the stone. 
We hasten to tell the good tidings 

To hearts that rejoice with our own. 

When death has come into our dwelling 
And stolen our treasures away. 

When grief with its mantle has shrouded 
The sunshine that brightened our day, 



204 Vagrant Verses. 

Then, closing the doors and the windows. 
In secret we sorrow and moan, 

For none can have part in afflictions 
That each heart must suffer alone. 

Ah, little the world can imagine 

The troubles and cares that oppress 
The many too brave and too noble 

To give any sign of distress! 
And little we dream of the trials 

A brother or sister has known, 
Who smiles in the face of misfortune. 

And sheds bitter tears when alone. 

True Grief, with the old Roman spirit — 

Heroic, majestic, and proud — 
Will cover its face, and endeavor 

Its anguish to hide from the crowd ; 
While Joy, no adept at concealing 

Its presence, for ages has shown 
That, though he has Eden to live in, 

Man cannot be happy alone. 



What will Mother Say? 205 



WHAT WILL MOTHER SAY? 



M 




HAT will mother say, my boy ? 

What will mother say, 
When she hears of evil deeds 
You have done to-day ? 
All her hopes and plans for you 

Blighted at a breath ! 
Honor scorned and virtue lost ; 
This is worse than death ! 

Tearfully she thought of you ; 

Prayerfully she kept 
Vigils through the solemn hours 

When all others slept. 
When she learns how heartlessly 

You have turned away 
From her loving counsels, O, 

What will mother say ? 

Other sons might be misled, 

Evil ways pursue ; 
Undisturbed the confidence 

She reposed in you. 
When she finds how cruelly 

You this trust betray, 
Blinding and deceiving her, 

What will mother say? 



206 Vagrant Verses. 

When she comprehends the truth 

Long she's disbelieved ; 
VV^hen she cannot fail to see 

How she's been deceived; 
When the idol Love had throned 

Proves 'twas coarsest clay, 
All unworthy such regard — 

What will mother say ? 



Ere you wander from her side 

Into paths of shame ; 
Ere you sacrifice your pride 

In a virtuous name ; 
Ere you follow after those 

Urging you astray, 
Heed the voice that whispers now: 

" What will mother say ? " 



"A LAUGH IS WORTH A HUNDRED 
GROANS!" 

"X\^7"E often meet upon the street 
yyr A friend it is a joy to greet, 

Whose kindly smile and words of 
cheer 
Bid gloomy shadows disappear. 



Worth a Hundred Groans. 207 

He does not show the marks of woe, 
Or of his trials let us know, 
Nor yet perform an actor's part 
To keep us distant from his heart. 

When he is near we have no fear, 
Or thought, that he is insincere, 
So much of truth is in his gaze, 
So frank and cordial are his ways ; 
With mirthful charms he soon disarms 
Us of our sorrows and alarms. 
And says, in bright, electric tones : 
"A laugh is worth a hundred groans !" 

We turn away to bid " Good-day " 
To one who comes in sad array, 
With lengthened visage, and the air 
That Sorrow's children always wear. 
There is no mirth around his hearth. 
He adds not to the joys of earth, 
And fails to comprehend the jokes 
Of merry, laughter-loving folks. 

His touch is cold as church-yard mold, 
Without a word his griefs are told; 
Aiid few are anxious to attend 
His steps, ur own him as a friend. 



208 Vagrant Verses. 

Life's sunny glow they never know 
Who thus in somber livery go, 
And ever stubbornly endure 
The ills a hearty laugh might cure. 

More blest are they — the glad and gay — 
Who scatter sunshine on their way ; 
Whose heads in grief not long are bowed ; 
Who see the light through every cloud. 
The heart must bear its weight of care, 
And of life's troubles have a sliare. 
Of what avail these mournful moans? 
" A laugh is worth a hundred groans ! " 



m 



MENDING THE NET. 

jj^^jHE fisherman sat by the door of his 
cot, 
As jolly and happy as he could be, 
Content with himself and his humble lot, 
And always at home on the bright blue 
sea. 
lie was mending a net, and he crooned a 
song. 
While busily plying his needle and 
twine ; 
" O Trouble and Care, you may jog along, 
Nor tarry within this dwelling of mine. 



Mending the Net. 209 

Trouble and care worry and wear ; 

A woman's heart you may soon re- 
pair; 

But the heart of a man if rent in 
twain 

Can never be put together again ! " 

The fisherman smiled as he looked around 
O'er the field he reaped with the trusty 
seine, 
And thought of the farmers who tilled the 
ground, 
And said, " It is better to plow the main. 
For though to-day I've no luck at all. 
The net may break and the prize slip 
through, 
To-morrow I'll try for another haul. 
And find my net is as good as new ! 
Trouble and care worry and wear; 
A woman's heart you may soon re- 
pair; 
But the heart of a man if rent in twain 
Gan never be put together again ! " 

The fisherman's daughter sat just within 
The door of the cottage that stood ajar, 

Her hand supporting her dimpled chin, 
As she gazed out over the harbor bar. 
14 



210 Vagkant Verses. 

And she said to herself, " O men may go 
And puzzle their heads over maps and 
charts, 
But they're better at mending nets, I trow. 
Than mending or measuring women's 
hearts ! " 
"Trouble and care worry and wear; 
A woman's heart you may soon repair ; 
But the heart of a man if rent in twain 
Can never be put together again I " 

The maiden listened and shook her head. 

And heavily sighed as she murmured low : 
" It is not true as the song has said. 

For I would be happier were it so ! " 
Still the fisher sang to a lively air 

As he mended the net that was torn apart, 
Nor guessed that already trouble and care 
Had found their way to his daughter's 
heart : 
" Trouble and care worry and wear ; 
A woman's heart you may soon repair ; 
But the heart of a man if rent in twain 
Can never be put together again ! " 



Thus men may sing, and thus men may say 
But women will have it the other way. 




A Little Gikl feom Out of Town. 211 

A LITTLE GIRL FROM OUT OF TOWN. 

LITTLE cMlcl from out of town 
One pleasant day went tripping down 
The street, with bright and happy air, 

That lighted all the thoroughfare. 

She wore no rich, expensive dress 

Her rank and fortune to express. 

But in a plain and simple gown 

Made her first entry into town. 

At every store she stopped to gaze, 
Wide-eyed, at the bewildering maze 
Of colors, with such shrewdness blent 
That each unto the other lent 
Some portion of its beauty, while 
With sweet, appreciative smile 
She made it known, the artless elf. 
How much the picture pleased herself. 

The jostling crowd, the rushing strife, 
The incidents of city life, 
The chiming bells, the screaming boys, 
And every harsh, discordant noise. 
And every strange and startling sight. 
Filled with unspeakable delight. 
That left no trace of fear or frown, 
This little maid from out of town. 



212 Vagrant Verses. 

Grown too familiar with the scene, 
With careless grace or haughty mien, 
With anxious face, or stolid gaze. 
The many tread the tangled maze; 
But she goes gleaning here and there 
Along the busy thoroughfare. 
And many a jeweled thought will find 
To enrich the storehouse of her mind. 

The innocent wonder on her face. 
Her artless speech, her bird-like grace. 
Her neat attire, her simple dress. 
And all her sweet attractiveness. 
Make up a vision bright and fair. 
Pure as a breath of country air ; 
And Eden's glory seems to crown 
The little child from out of town. 

Ah, would we might delay the doom 
That brushes off the youthful bloom, 
And from her spirit and her eyes 
Removes the look of charmed surprise ! 
It may not be ; ere many days, 
Familiarized with city ways. 
She'll change the graces and the gown 
That marked the child from out of town. 




Coming Down the Stairs. 213 



COMING DOWN THE STAIRS. 

^(^T'EARY, I was climbing 
Up the stair-way steep, 
Toward my little bedroom, 
There to rest and sleep, 
When a little maiden 
Met me, unawares, 
With a peal of laughter, 
Coming down the stairs. 

Like a gleam of sunshine 

On a gloomy road. 
Like an angel presence 

In a dark abode, 
Came the precious darling, 

Full of sparkling glee, 
Rapturously kissing 

And embracing me. 

With her arms around me 

Hugging me so tight, 
I could have ascended 

Still another flight, 
All my weary feelings. 

All my weight of cares. 
Vanishing at sight of her 

Coming down the stairs. 



214 Vagra-NT Veeses. 

Toilsome seems the journey- 
As our way we wend 

Through the darkened passage, 
And the steeps ascend ; 

But the joy of meeting 
Flesh and soul upbears, 

If we hear loved footsteps 
Coming down the stairs. 

Coming down to meet us 

From their home above, 
Coming down to greet us 

With their smiles of love, 
Are the bright-robed angels, 

Singly, or in pairs. 
For our help and guidance 

Coming down the stairs. 



THE FUNNY STORY. 

fT was such a funny story ! how I wish 
you could have heard it ! 
For it set us all a-laughing, from the 
little to the big ; 
I'd really like to tell it, but I don't know 
how to word it. 
Though it travels to the music of a very 
lively jig. 



The Funny Story. 215 

If Sally just began it, then Amelia Jane 
would giggle, 
And Mehitable and Susan try their very 
broadest grin ; 
And the infant Zachariah on his mother's 
lap would wriggle, 
And add a lusty chorus to the very merry 
din. 

It was such a funny story, with a cheery 
snap and crackle, 
And Sally always told it with so much 
dramatic art. 
That the chickens in the door-yard would 
begin to "cackle, cackle," 
As if in such a frolic they were anxious 
to take part. 

It was all about a — ha ! ha ! — and a hoi 
ho ! ho ! — well, really. 
It is — he ! he ! he ! — I never could begin 
to tell you half 
Of the nonsense there was in it, for I just 
remember clearly 
It began with ha! ha! ha! ha! and it 
ended with a laugh. 



216 Vagrant Veeses. 

But Sally she could tell it, looking at us so 
demurely, 
With a woebegone expression that no 
actress would despise ; 
And if you'd never heard it, why you 
would imagine, surely, 
That you'd need your pocket-handker- 
chief to wipe your weeping eyes. 

When age my hair has silvered, and my 
step has grown unsteady, 
And the nearest to my vision are the 
scenes of long ago, 
I shall see the pretty picture, and the tears 
may come as ready 
As the laugh did, when I used to ha ! ha ! 
ha ! and — ho ! ho ! ho ! 




